


Conversational Junctures

by thesoundofasmile



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24397240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoundofasmile/pseuds/thesoundofasmile
Summary: Conversations occur in all manner of situations. These are some of Natasha Romanoff’s conversations over the years prior to the Snap.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Laura Barton & Natasha Romanov, Melinda May & Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov & Thor, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Nick Fury & Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 57
Kudos: 83





	1. It's Just a Little Surreal

**Author's Note:**

> Those of you who've read my other story, Moments, will be familiar with this story structure - though this one focuses on the time before the Snap, rather than after. These are actually the first bits of writing I did in this fandom, and they've been sitting in my drafts folder for quite some time. I stumbled on them recently and figured I may as well post 'em.
> 
> I (quite obviously) own nothing of the MCU or Marvel...just dipping my toes into it to flex my creativity.
> 
> Enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura and Natasha discuss things after the Battle of New York.

“Nat?” Laura called out softly as her eyes scanned the porch and front yard for any signs of the red-head who had brought her husband home just a few hours earlier. Laura had been in the dark as to what was going on for days, until all of a sudden everything was happening. Aliens, and portals to space, and heroes battling in New York…

_“He’s…compromised.”_

_“Compromised?”_

_“Yeah. But I’m getting him back.”_

_Laura blinked as she tried to process what she’d just been told. She was keenly aware of what every heartbeat felt like as it pounded within her chest._

_“I swear on my life that I’ll bring him home to you, Laura.”_

_She heard the click of the call disconnecting before she could utter a syllable._

Clint had come home in one piece – just as Natasha had promised – but Laura hadn’t failed to notice the distinct wariness and flashes of fear in his eyes that hadn’t been there when he’d left. She still didn’t know what ‘compromised’ meant in this case, or the lengths to which the woman she thought of as her sister had been forced to go to in order to keep her promise.

“Nat?” Laura repeated, this time peeking around the corner of the house to check the side where the hammock that Natasha frequently curled up in during her stays at the farm was set up.

“Up here,” she heard a soft voice say, and her gaze slid up to the roof where Natasha was perched half-way up the slope.

Laura couldn’t help the rise of her eyebrows in surprise, but she did manage to hold off the frown that was threatening to appear. “You know, I expect this from Hawkeye,” she said, gesturing to the spy’s perched figure, trying for a hint of humour in her tone, “but not from you.”

Natasha shrugged and offered a half-smile as she rolled her eyes. “I guess his habits are finally rubbing off on me.”

This time Laura let the gentle frown form on her face as she met Nat’s gaze. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about Nat’s demeanour that was just that little bit…off. “You want some company?”

“Sure.”

Laura grabbed the nearby ladder she was very confident Natasha had not used to get onto the roof, and climbed up. She grabbed the hand that Nat offered from her seated position and maneuvered her way onto the other side of the red-head.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Nat’s gaze having turned back to the sky dotted with stars while Laura’s stayed on the woman who, even after all these years, was still in many ways a complete mystery to her.

Sometimes Laura wondered if maybe Natasha always would be a mystery to her. She knew the spy better than most people, save for Clint and maybe Nick, but for all the layers Laura had chipped away at during her visits, Natasha was still difficult to read most of the time. She supposed that was probably the way Nat liked it…after all, it’s how she was raised.

“He’ll be okay,” Natasha said eventually, her eyes drifting down from the moon and stars, meeting Laura’s gaze again. “He’s…nervous, but he’ll be okay.”

“Why is he nervous?”

Natasha shook her head. “It’s not my place to tell. He’ll talk to you when he’s ready.”

“Do I need to be worried?” Laura asked, trying to get a handle on what exactly had happened. She’d seen some footage of the battle in New York, but the news coverage had focused on the flashier fighting styles of the other members of the team, leaving her to scan for glimpses of arrows and flashes of red hair, which were unfortunately few and far between. Not to mention the days leading up to it were still a complete mystery to her.

“Are you ever not worried?” Natasha countered with a brief smile.

“I guess not,” Laura replied with a small smile and a guilty shake of her head. She recognized the deflection for what it was, but also recognized the underlying humour in the retort.

“Just give him some time, Laura. He’ll bounce back.”

Laura felt relief spread. Natasha may not be the most open person in the world, but it had never been her style to sugar coat things. Oddly, it had always been something that had brought a sense of comfort to Laura, since she knew that Nat wouldn’t hold back anything without a damn good reason to do so.

“Okay,” she said quietly with a nod. “Thank you,” she added after a beat, a grateful smile on her face.

Natasha shook her head and waved off the gratitude. “He’s family,” she explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And it was. She had never anticipated Clint’s choice to spare Natasha’s life would’ve led to her gaining a sister…but it had, and Laura felt intensely grateful that he had someone looking out for him while they were off doing whatever the hell it was they did.

Laura let the silence linger for a little longer before she leaned over and bumped her shoulder to Natasha’s. “What are you doing up here, Nat?”

The spy offered another half-smile as she glanced back at Laura briefly. “Enjoying the view,” she said, nodding her head toward the clear night sky, dotted with stars.

Laura’s brow furrowed ever so slightly as she considered the scene in front of her. It had been a long time since Natasha had sought out solitude during her visits. And while her expression might be unreadable, Laura had spent enough time with her to know that her current posture and choice of setting meant that Natasha was feeling unsettled.

Then again, she supposed battling aliens could do that to a person…so maybe it wasn’t so crazy to let Nat work through it on her own. But Natasha had always had a nasty habit of letting the weight of her guilt pin her into her own mind. And she didn’t deserve that.

“Hey,” Laura said softly, the rest of the sentence unsaid, but clear. It’s me. You don’t need to hide it. You can tell me. I’m here.

It took a moment before there was a reaction, but when Natasha turned to face her, Laura recognized the gesture for what it was – a look into the real answer to her question. It was brief, only a couple seconds in total, but it told Laura everything she needed to know. Natasha looked lost.

Laura grappled with how to respond to the rather intimate glimpse into her emotions that Nat had uncharacteristically offered up. ‘What’s wrong?’ implied there was something wrong…which despite how true it might be, wouldn’t get anything out of her. ‘Are you okay?’ fell into a similar trap – it was too direct and would definitely not coax a response out of her. Perhaps a more roundabout question...

But before Laura could voice any sort of question, she heard Natasha let out a soft sigh. It was another telling indicator of the headspace that Nat was in, since that was the type of thing she had a tight control on for 99.99% of the time. Laura felt a certain sense of honour that Nat had chosen to let her in and give her a glimpse into things.

Natasha shook her head gently as she began to speak, offering an explanation that Laura hadn’t actually expected to get. “It’s just a little surreal, you know? Aliens, and gods, and superheroes. And…” she trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished.

But Laura had a feeling she knew where this particular conversation was headed. “And…” she prompted.

“And then me,” Natasha finished, allowing her eyes to meet with Laura’s for just a moment before snapping back to the sky above.

“You shouldn’t sell yourself short, Nat. You’re just as valuable a member of that team as any of them. You’re a hero too.”

“I’m a spy, not a soldier,” she said with a grimace. “And somehow I got pulled into a war.”

“You’ve always been more than a spy, Nat. You may not think you’re worthy of a place on that team, but I promise you that you are. Hell, from the little that Clint’s told me, you’re the one that kept those guys from giving into their testosterone and fighting each other.”

Natasha let out a chuckle as she shook her head and smiled. But it was short-lived as her expression fell back to a more contemplative one. “I just-” she began, but cut herself off abruptly. “It’s hard to believe this is my life.”

Laura made a snap decision to offer some physical comfort in the form of a one-armed hug. While Nat had never really been one for physical affection, she had grown accustomed to hugs from the kids and Laura over the years to the point where for the most part, she no longer flinched when on the receiving end of them.

“You’re not your past,” Laura said softly, squeezing Nat’s shoulder and hoping she had guessed the source of her contemplation correctly. She knew she was treading in uncomfortable territory for Natasha, and that it was very much still a sore spot for her, but she pressed on anyway. “You haven’t been for a long time.”

“A few good deeds don’t erase the years of-”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Nat,” Laura interrupted firmly. “They may have raised you to be an assassin, but you chose to leave that life behind. You chose to do good.”

Natasha laughed bitterly as she shook her head, but didn’t say anything.

“You helped save the world, Nat. I think that qualifies as grounds to be able to leave your past behind you.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple, but thank you.”

Laura let out a frustrated sigh. She could feel the guilt rolling off of her, and it frustrated her to no end that Natasha couldn’t see herself how she did. She changed tactics slightly this time. “What’s going to be enough, Nat? How many people do you need to save? Because you just saved an entire city, and probably planet, from being taken over by aliens, not to mention the fact that you kept your promise and brought Clint home to me.”

Laura had expected her to protest that she owed her life to Clint, but when Nat stayed quiet, she was hopeful that her words had hit their mark. They fell into a more comfortable silence after that. Laura didn’t fail to notice that Natasha had not shrugged out of her hug.

“How much coverage did I get on the news?” she asked after a few minutes, startling Laura out of her silent reverie.

“Not a lot, to be honest.”

“Good.”

Laura’s brows furrowed for just a second before she realized that the less coverage she got, the easier her job at SHIELD would be. She supposed that undercover missions probably became a whole lot harder when most of the world has seen you on TV.

“Yeah, the guys flying through the air and flinging a shield around got most of the attention, but I’m sure there’ll be some girls dressing up as you for Halloween this year,” she teased, letting out a short laugh.

The mood shifted instantly, and Laura realized her error as Natasha grimaced again. “God, I hope not.”

Laura figured there wasn’t much else she could say to persuade the spy that she wasn’t marked with quite as much debt as she might think, so she chose to let the subject drop with little more than a soft, disapproving glare.

This was something Nat would have to work through on her own. Probably with a helpful shove from Clint once he was recovered.

“How long were you planning on staying?”

“Not too sure,” Nat replied. “If Clint wants me to stay, I can hang around for awhile.”

Laura recognized the meaning in her words. If Clint needed her to stay, she would.

“Well, in the interest of full disclosure,” Laura began, deciding to play the card that never failed, “I think the kids have already planned out a full-scale attack on trying to get you to stay, so maybe you should just cut your losses and hang around.”

Natasha let out a laugh that felt genuine this time. “They are persuasive little demons.”

“They get that from their father,” Laura said with a laugh of her own.

“No,” Nat said with a shake of her head, her tone more serious than Laura had expected, “I think they get that from their mother.”

Laura felt a smile spread across her face. Maybe more progress had been made than she’d thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did you like the peek back at the friendship between Nat and Laura in those early days? If it hasn't been made clear yet - I totally dig their friendship.
> 
> Thoughts? Comments? Feelings? Please let me know - I always love hearing (errrr, reading, I suppose) what y'all think.
> 
> Lots more to come...


	2. Who Peed in Your Cornflakes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Nat have a disagreement prior to heading over to Germany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one digs into how Nat might've felt about a kid joining them for their battle against their own, because I'm pretty sure she'd have some thoughts. And also maybe because I couldn't resist having her and Tony throw quick-witted barbs at each other. 😉
> 
> (Also, yes, I cheated by having Peter's POV at the start, but it was too amusing to cut, and I argued with myself that it establishes context, so it stayed!)

Peter's eyes flitted around the room jumping from one thing to another as his mind frantically tried to keep up in cataloguing everything. There was just _so much_ stuff. And the Avengers – the _actual Avengers_! _–_ lived and trained here! Their own facility! And he was sitting on their couch.

And Germany…he was going to _Germany_! To help Mr. Stark and-

"Who are you?"

Peter turned around quickly and nearly fell off his seat when he saw the owner of the voice standing in the doorway. Words failed him and his mouth just opened and closed uselessly as he found himself staring at someone he'd only ever heard stories about. He knew on some level that staring at her was _definitely not a good idea,_ given it was the Black Widow standing in front of him, but his brain was unable to tear his gaze away.

"I, uh, I'm-" he stuttered, not completely certain that his brain was still actually working.

She arched one eyebrow in a silent, but pointed suggestion for him to get his shit together and answer her question.

"Uhh, Peter," he managed. "Wait – Spider-Man. I'm Spider-Man."

His eyes widened when she let out a short laugh. "Really?"

"Yeah," he replied defensively. _Who was she to- Oh. Black Widow. Spider…right._

"And you're here because…" she trailed off.

"Mr. Stark asked me," he answered quickly.

"Mr. Stark, huh?" she repeated, her expression hardening just a bit at that particular piece of information.

Peter swallowed to banish the lump in his throat. "Yeah. He came to get me, and says I'm going with him to Germany."

He couldn't be totally sure, but Peter was _pretty sure_ that he saw her gaze narrow the tiniest little bit at _that_ bit of information.

"I see. Would you excuse me?" Peter just nodded, unsure of what exactly was happening. "Don't touch anything," she instructed with a pointed look before turning on her heel and disappearing.

Peter let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. _Holy shit._ He'd just met the Black Widow. Belatedly his mind began to wonder exactly how the woman had managed to sneak up on him…

* * *

"Stark!" Natasha called out sharply as she walked toward him.

Tony's eyes widened. A pissed off Natasha was not good. Definitely not good.

"Romanoff! Ready to jet? Got my soundtrack ready and everything," he said, trying for some of his usual flippancy. But then her expression shifted and Tony began to worry, because while he'd _thought_ she was pissed before…now she _really_ looked pissed. "Uh, who peed in your cornflakes?"

"He's a kid," she said curtly, her tone low and her gaze icy cold.

Tony blinked. "Ah, so you met our newest recruit."

"Oh, yes. He's very impressive," she bit back, sarcasm dripping from her words. "He introduced himself. Took him a few tries, but he got his name right eventually."

"Can't blame the kid," Tony said with a forced laugh. "You're downright scary at times." _Like right freaking now._

"You mind explaining to me why he is under the impression that he's coming with us to Germany?"

"Uh…because he is. I mean technically he's gonna fly with Happy, but-"

Natasha's eyes hardened even further, and Tony was pretty sure he was seeing actual fire in them now. "Like hell he is."

Tony frowned. "What's the issue, Red? Because in case you hadn't noticed, we're a bit undermanned, what with your former partner being called up to play for Cap's team."

"So your solution is to bring in a kid?" she shot back.

"To be fair," Tony said, holding up a pointed finger to emphasize his words, "he's a lot stronger than he looks. And not nearly as wimpy as he sounds."

She batted away his hand. "I don't care how strong he is, or what his abilities are, he doesn't belong here."

"Now hang on a second," he protested. "I think you might be making a bit of a hasty decision. You don't even-"

"No, I think _you're_ the one making a hasty decision here, Stark."

"Am I?" Tony shot back immediately. She was being pissy, and he definitely didn't have time for it. "Because I'm pretty sure Cap's not gonna pull his punches when we get in his way, and we're gonna need the extra set of hands."

"He's a kid," she spat back.

"Yeah, you mentioned that," he said dismissively. "What else you got?"

"How can you think this is okay? He's what – 14? 15?"

"His age doesn't-"

"He hasn't been trained. He's never fought against anyone, let alone super soldiers," she interrupted.

Tony rolled his eyes. "He's capable. More capable than you know."

"Even if he is, it doesn't matter," Natasha said as she blew out a breath carefully, as though she were trying to rein in her anger. "You're pulling him into a war that he knows nothing about, and has no stake in."

"Don't be dramatic," Tony said with a roll of his eyes. "That's my job. And by the way, did I miss the part where we declared war on someone? Oh! Is it Russia? Cold War 2.0 time? Is that why you're all pissy? Don't like people speaking ill of the Motherland, even if you defected all those years ago? Exactly how many years ago was it, anyway? I've always wond-"

"Shut the fuck up, Stark, and listen to me for one goddamn second."

Tony blinked. While Natasha certainly wasn't an angel when it came to her choice of words, she didn't usually spit out the heavy stuff this way. "I'm listening," he relented finally.

"For once," she replied dryly.

He clenched his teeth and breathed in to steady himself. "You wanna make your point or not? 'Cause we're on the clock here."

"It doesn't matter if he's capable of taking on Cap – or anyone for that matter – because he's a kid. He doesn't deserve to get pulled into this. It's not his fight. He shouldn't have any part of this little civil war of ours, and you pulling him into it isn't fair to him."

Tony let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. It wasn't odd for her to disagree with him. In fact, until the Accords (and he was still trying to work out _why_ she agreed with him on that) he was pretty sure that he could count on one hand the number of times that she had agreed with him on anything. But her reaction to bringing in Peter was extreme, and he didn't understand why she was so vehemently against it.

"Why the hell do you care so much, anyway?"

She tilted her head to one side and shot him an unimpressed look. "I know you read at least some of the files I released when SHIELD collapsed, so don't play stupid. You know _exactly_ why I'm against this."

_Oh. Of course._ "Well, that's all well and good, Romanoff, but the kid wasn't brainwashed and he's totally on board with this, so he's coming along. Now, we gotta load up the last of the equipment, so let's get a move on," he said and turned to leave.

But Natasha grabbed his arm before he'd even taken a step. "What did you tell him about all of this? How did you convince him?"

Tony shrugged out of her grip, shooting her an unimpressed look. "Told him Cap thinks he's right, but that he's wrong, and that's why we're going to bring him in."

"That's a bit watered down."

"We didn't exactly have time for a history lesson, so I gave him the cheat sheet, alright?"

"How did you justify this to his parents? Or did you lie to them too?"

"As far as his aunt knows, he's-"

"You know what, I don't even care," she shot back, frustration bubbling over as she realized he wasn't going to be convinced. "But don't expect me to babysit him out there, and definitely don't expect me to console you when you have to give his aunt the bad news that he's been injured, or worse."

Tony held her glare with one of his own, letting silence settle between them. "Why'd you agree with me on the Accords anyway?" he asked finally, unable to keep the sharpness out of his tone.

Nat glared at him for a moment before letting herself breathe in two carefully controlled breaths, as though steadying herself and measuring her words before answering. For completely childish reasons, Tony found the emotional maturity absolutely infuriating.

"The Accords aren't perfect, and I don't agree with much of them…but I think that us staying together is more important than how we stay together. I think we can do more good together in some capacity than we could do separated and fractured. And if we can help steer the process of oversight, then I think it was worth agreeing in some capacity."

Tony stayed quiet as he let her words sink in. "You still feel that way, even with half our little band disagreeing with that viewpoint?"

"I signed, didn't I?"

"That's not what I asked."

"And yet that's the answer you're going to get."

"Well thanks for your support, Red. Really, it means the world to me," Tony said with a roll of his eyes as she walked away, apparently finished with the conversation.

He turned his attention back to finishing the final bit of prep on his suit, but her earlier words echoed in his mind. Peter _was_ just a kid. A capable kid, yes, but still a kid. He'd have to keep an eye on him… Peter could stay out of the fray and be helpful from a distance…that would minimize the risk to him, and get him back home in one piece…

* * *

"Hey kid," Tony said quietly, hoping not to attract the attention of Natasha who had her eyes on the controls of the jet.

"Yeah, Mr. Stark?"

"You remember what I told you?"

"Keep at a distance, and wrap 'em up in webs," Peter said with a nod.

"Right."

"Hey, Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Is Captain America really that wrong that we gotta…um…take him out?"

"Okay, first – we're not 'taking out' Cap. We're bringing him in," Tony replied after a moment's hesitation. "But he thinks he's right, and that makes him even more dangerous because he'll fight all the more for it."

Peter was quiet for a second, clearly trying to reconcile the image of Captain America he had in his head with the new information. "Okay," he said finally.

Tony sensed the uncertainty in his reply and tried to offer some comfort. "Look, you probably won't even have to deal with him directly, but if you do – go for the legs. Everyone always focuses on the shield, but his legs are usually not covered so…"

"Got it," Peter said with a nod. "Anything else?"

"Cap…well he won't want to hurt you, so he'll probably try to convince you to stay out of it. Probably tell you this stuff is all above your pay grade, and that you don't have any idea of what's going on."

"Right," Peter said slowly, drawing the word out.

"Just – stick to the plan and it'll be fine."

Peter just nodded, put his headphones back in and closed his eyes.

Tony tried not to read too much into the fact that Peter's leg was bouncing up and down quickly.

"Quite the pep talk," Natasha said dryly, glancing back at him.

He held up a hand. "Just no, Romanoff. No."

Her gaze narrowed as she scrutinized him, her head tilting ever so slightly. "You tell Rhodey about him? How about Vision? Because I'm pretty sure they wouldn't approve of you bringing a kid along."

"What part of no did you not understand?" he replied sharply.

"Oh, I understood it," she said firmly. "I just chose to ignore it."

Tony just glared in response. She was _really_ starting to piss him off. Mostly because she was starting to make sense.

"You're taking away his childhood from him if you make him do this," she said quietly, and for maybe the first time since he'd met her, he saw a flash of vulnerability.

"He already lost his childhood when he lost his parents," Tony said quietly, shooting a glance at the kid who was now bobbing his head along to whatever song he was listening to. "Besides, he wants to do good. He wants to help."

She didn't reply for a moment, and Tony thought that maybe she'd finally come around. But then she stood from her seat. "We're 10 minutes out – might want to get the kid suited up," she said as she slipped past him. "I'd tell him, but he might have a heart attack trying to speak to me," she said dryly, one eyebrow arched.

Tony opened his mouth to retort, but she beat him to the punch. "Oh, and I'm assuming you activated the Training Wheels protocols in his suit?"

"How did you-" Tony started, and then stopped abruptly as he remembered that she had once hacked her way back into Rhodey's suit on his behalf. _Of course_ she knew. And _of course_ she'd done a background check on the kid and on the suit. "You know what, I don't want to know. Not now. But when we get back, you and I are having a serious conversation about boundaries when it comes to my files."

Nat's eyebrow arched upward again, as though inviting the challenge. Tony held in the sigh he desperately wanted to let out and instead threw the bag containing the kid's suit at him. Peter's eyes widened as he caught the bag and pulled out his headphones.

"Suit up, kid. It's just about showtime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts on the Tony-Nat dynamic? Other comments? Feelings? Suggestions on other characters/instances to cover?
> 
> Let me know. Always dig seeing what you all think.
> 
> Also: hope everybody is staying safe in these times.


	3. Don't Worry, It Isn't More Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into the early stages of Natasha taking on the role as Wanda's mentor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I couldn't let the short conversation in Civil War be the only instance of a mentor/mentee relationship between Wanda and Natasha.

“Don’t feel too bad,” Sam said, shooting a sympathetic look to Wanda, who was sitting on the ground breathing heavily and leaning against the wall with eyes closed. “I run regularly, and that almost killed me too.”

Wanda’s eyes fluttered open slowly as she focused on Sam, who was holding out a hand to help her up. “I need a minute,” she replied.

“Doesn’t look like that’s a luxury Romanoff’s gonna let us have,” he said apologetically, glancing over his shoulder to the other side of the room and finding Natasha’s watchful eyes on them. “We’re moving onto the next level apparently.”

Wanda let her head fall back as she exhaled heavily before opening up her eyes and grabbing Sam’s proffered hand to get up.

“There ya go,” Sam said with a reassuring smile and a nod. “C’mon, if we survived that then we can survive anything,” he drawled, a cheeky grin spreading on his face.

As they jogged across the room to where Natasha was waiting, Wanda couldn’t help but hold a tiny glimmer of hope that whatever the ‘next level’ entailed, there wouldn’t be quite so much running involved.

* * *

As it turned out, the entire _week_ had been dedicated to running and working through a variety of obstacle courses that Wanda was fairly certain Captain America had run through during his pre-war training. Wanda had struggled through all of it, never having really needed to keep up that kind of fitness for any reason, but for some reason everyone had been incredibly understanding and supportive as she lagged behind.

While part of her was grateful for their kindness, mostly Wanda found herself frustrated. She was frustrated at herself for being unable to keep up. For all the power she wielded inside of herself, she couldn’t do something as simple as run through a course in the specified time. Logically she knew that their training regimen would not all be physical training, and that soon enough they would begin to work on things that played to her strengths…but it was hard not to be discouraged with herself given just how far behind everyone she was. She felt herself several times begin to wonder whether she was cut out to be a part of the team at all.

For reasons passing her understanding, Wanda found herself frustrated with her teammates too. She could feel the pity in their stares, and wanted nothing more than to throw something across the room with her mind to prove she was worthy to be a member of the team.

Wanda rubbed her hands over her face in an effort to rid herself of the ball of frustration that had taken hold. She felt the familiar throb of her powers begin to fight against her control and let out a heavy exhale to try and calm herself. Generally, she managed to keep a pretty good handle on her powers, but the exhaustion from the week’s activities had apparently caught up with her, and was making it that much harder to contain.

She was startled from her efforts at keeping the wisps of red contained when Natasha appeared suddenly. “Good work this week,” she said with a small nod of her head.

Wanda found herself frowning. She had struggled all week and now Natasha was telling her she had done well? While she may not know the infamous Black Widow well, she knew enough to understand that pitying and patronizing were not things she did. So why was she offering this comfort now?

“I don’t need your pity,” Wanda replied with a little more venom in her voice than she had really intended.

If Natasha was surprised, she didn’t show it. “I’m not pitying you. I’m telling you that you did well this week.”

Wanda let out an unimpressed huff. “Please don’t patronize me. They ran circles around me.”

“They had a much higher baseline than you. Relative to your starting point, I’d say you outperformed them,” Natasha explained, her voice infuriatingly calm and even.

Wanda knew that Natasha had nothing to do with the anger bubbling inside her, but she couldn’t help the bitter thoughts from forming. She opened her mouth to retort, but Natasha beat her to the punch.

“I know this is frustrating for you, but it’s not without a purpose. I mean it when I say you did well this week. I don’t expect you to be able to keep up with Rhodey and Sam – they both come from a military background and are used to this kind of thing. And I definitely don’t expect you to keep up with Cap. I mean…I think he actually likes this stuff,” Natasha said, finishing with a small smile.

She watched Wanda for a moment before she pressed on, apparently having gleaned something from her body language. “Just give it a little time. You’ll be surprised how quickly you build up endurance and strength.”

Wanda felt her anger and frustration ebb away almost instantly. She felt pangs of regret at her words, and opened her mouth to apologize, but again, Natasha beat her to the punch.

“Listen – can you meet me here tomorrow after breakfast? I want to show you something.”

Wanda blinked in confusion – this was certainly not what she’d expected. She realized that she hadn’t said anything when Natasha tilted her head slightly, as though trying to prompt a response.

“Okay,” Wanda replied with a nod, not really sure what she’d just gotten herself into.

* * *

“It’s a nice day out – do you mind if we take this outside?” Natasha asked as she glanced out the window at the far end of the room.

Wanda eyed her carefully. “What exactly are we taking outside?” she asked, decidedly apprehensive about it whatever was to come.

Natasha smiled. “Don’t worry, it isn't more running.”

Wanda shrugged and gestured vaguely toward the door, still feeling decidedly unsure about all of it.

Truthfully, the fact that Natasha was being so nice was unnerving. Ultron had shared some details about Natasha with her before they left for South Africa, and she had heard the whispers about the Black Widow’s past. Hell, during the battle against Ultron she had _seen_ just how deadly Natasha could be. And during the limited training sessions that they had run through, Natasha had been all business.

Wanda had not expected to be welcomed warmly to the team, not after what she had put them through; she had debated long and hard whether to accept Steve’s offer to join the Avengers officially, knowing full well that she would be fighting an uphill battle to gain their trust. And so, Natasha’s almost brusque demeanour made sense. But then she’d been welcomed with kindness by the team despite what she had done, and now Natasha was extending what seemed to be an olive branch. It just didn’t make sense.

“Perfect, let’s go,” Natasha said as she began to walk toward the door, gesturing for Wanda to follow.

Wanda fell into step beside her, ignoring the impulse to look into the spy’s mind to figure out exactly what she was walking into. Not knowing what she was walking into was making her a bit nervous, especially given how much she had already struggled this week.

“How much do you know about your powers?”

Wanda blinked in confusion. She hadn’t expected the question. “I’m sorry?”

“Your powers,” Natasha said, gesturing to Wanda’s hands which were, to Wanda’s surprise, wrapped in wisps of red. She hadn’t realized her powers were manifesting. “Do you know the limits? The full extent of what you can do?”

“I- I’m not sure that I know everything,” Wanda answered honestly. “But I know I can see inside people’s minds, I can move things with my mind, and I can fly…sort of.”

“You ever try to really test yourself? Move something huge?”

Wanda shrugged. “They gave me increasingly more difficult things to manipulate and move as they trained me. I haven’t moved mountains, but I can hold my own.”

“I’m not worried about you holding your own. You proved that in Sokovia. I’m just curious.”

Wanda looked around when she realized that they had made their way to a small clearing, hidden away from the main facility. “Where are we?”

Natasha smiled ever so faintly. “I stumbled on it a couple days after moving in. I like to come here when I need a break from the guys. And believe me, if it hasn’t gotten to you yet, it will. The testosterone in this place is just too much sometimes.”

Wanda’s brow furrowed at this new information, but before she could voice any response Natasha began to speak again.

“Your powers are harder to control when you’re emotional, right?”

Wanda instantly felt a bit defensive at the redhead's accusation.

Natasha held up her hands. “That wasn’t an accusation, just an observation,” she explained.

Wanda considered Natasha’s words. Controlling her powers _had_ become more difficult since Pietro’s death… She felt her heart clench at the thought of her brother. Losing him had shattered her, and she hadn’t quite figured out how the pieces were meant to be put back together just yet.

When she realized that a few moments had passed without a reply, Wanda looked up to meet Natasha’s gaze again.

“Have you ever done Tai Chi?”

Wanda blinked in surprise. Of all the things she had thought Natasha might bring up or show her (and she had been _very_ conscientious in making sure to _not_ accidentally enter the redhead’s mind and find out), she hadn’t been expecting that.

Wanda shook her head. “No…” she replied slowly. “How is that going to help me?”

“Slow and deliberate movements that force you to really focus.”

Wanda couldn’t help the skeptical expression from forming. She couldn’t imagine Natasha practicing it. In a way it seemed like the type of thing that was everything the Black Widow _wasn’t._

“Plus it will help you build muscle and improve your flexibility,” Natasha added, clearly having read Wanda’s expression. “Don’t dismiss it so easily. A friend of mine introduced me to it years ago, and it helped me in more ways than I ever imagined it could.”

Wanda’s eyebrows rose in surprise at that admission. She tried to work out _who_ had introduced it to her, given that it didn’t seem like Natasha had a lot of friends. The only one who seemed remotely possible was Clint…but even that was a stretch.

“Believe me when I say it’s not for the faint of heart. It takes incredible focus.”

Wanda shrugged. It couldn’t hurt. “Okay. What do I do?”

* * *

Natasha ended up taking her through nearly an hour of it, and by the end Wanda understood why she’d said it would be helpful. Her muscles were sore, but her mind felt a bit clearer, and more centred.

“How was that?” Natasha asked, pulling on a hoodie that she’d taken off before they began.

“Better than I thought. It…it helped,” Wanda said quietly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. We can do it again sometime if you’d like.”

“Tomorrow?” Wanda asked hopefully. It had been a combination of relaxing and invigorating, and she had greatly underestimated how good it would feel.

Natasha smiled, apparently pleased by Wanda’s reaction. “Sure. After breakfast again? Training with the group won’t be until the afternoon.”

Wanda nodded and then fell into step beside her as they began to walk back to the facility. By the time they had reached the edge of the clearing, Wanda began to feel guilt eat at her. Her mind drifted to the fragments of memory that she’d pulled from the depths of Natasha’s mind when she had been tasked with incapacitating the Avengers by Ultron. The memories had been disjointed and confusing in a way that meant that Wanda didn’t understand their context, but the pain and anguish had been almost overwhelming.

Natasha was going out of her way to be kind, and to help in any way she could…despite the pain that Wanda had caused her.

“I’m sorry,” Wanda said softly, reaching out a hand to halt Natasha’s movement.

Natasha’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “For what?”

“With Ultron…” she trailed off and paused for a moment, grateful that Natasha had let the silence linger. “I felt your pain when I pulled those memories forward. I don’t understand what they were, but I know they were painful for you.”

Natasha was quiet for a moment. “It’s in the past, Wanda.”

“What I did…” Wanda tried to explain, but found words escaping her.

“It’s in the past, and I think it’s best to leave it there,” Natasha replied with a not unkind, but definitely unmistakable firmness in her tone.

Wanda couldn’t shake the feeling that Natasha had simply shoved everything surrounding those memories back into the boxes that they had been pulled from, and had pushed it all as far back into her mind as she could manage.

But she knew it wasn’t her place to judge that, since she had been the one to drag them up in the first place. It was Natasha’s prerogative to deal with them as she saw fit, and it certainly wasn’t up to Wanda to try and force her to face any of the aftermath of it. She figured that it wouldn’t be unlike pouring salt into an open wound… And besides, from the little she had learned about the spy, Wanda knew that Natasha was not one to respond to forceful attempts of any kind.

“We’re teammates now, Wanda. That means we need to trust each other to have one another’s backs,” she said, her gaze uncharacteristically gentle, and yet holding an unquestionable steadfastness. “I don’t hold what you did to me and the team against you. Tactically, it was a good play making us face our own fears and insecurities.

“And besides…” Natasha let out an almost silent sigh. “I happen to know a thing or two about what it’s like to realize that you’ve been manipulated into fighting for a cause. To realize that the hatred you held was misplaced.”

Wanda blinked as she digested what Natasha had just revealed. She knew admittedly very little about the famed Black Widow – far less than most, she guessed. And she wasn’t sure exactly what Natasha was referring to, but there was a certain weight behind the words that Wanda instinctively knew not to question.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Natasha said when she realized that Wanda wasn’t going to respond.

Her words startled Wanda out of her reverie. “Yes, tomorrow,” she agreed. “And…thank you, Natasha.”

Natasha offered a small smile in reply before turning and walking quickly back toward the facility, leaving Wanda alone with her thoughts.

She couldn’t help but feel like some small amount of progress had been made. Both with her control of her powers, and in building trust with her new teammate. Yes…maybe this Avengers thing was going to work out, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....thoughts on Wanda's struggles in her early Avengers days? On Natasha being Wanda's mentor? Figure out who (in my world) introduced Natasha to Tai Chi? Any other thoughts or comments? Suggestions for other characters or moments to cover? Let me know - always awesome to see what y'all think.


	4. The Role of My PA is Unexpectedly Vacant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper and Tony take stock of the fallout from Vanko's attack, and Tony reveals the real identity of his PA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because how could I gloss over the first film she was in, right!? And also because writing Tony and Pepper quipping back and forth is way too fun.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Pep, hey,” Tony said, looking up from the scrolling data on the table in front of him. “How’d you sleep? Good? Good, I hope. You hungry? You want an omelette?”

Pepper arched an eyebrow as she considered his rambling words. “Does that mean you’re going to tell me about how you were dying?”

Tony blinked twice quickly, processing her question, then nodded. “Sure. It’s kind of a long story though,” he said, his hands gesturing absently. “More of a post-breaky kind of thing really.”

Pepper stared at him for a moment, before giving her head a tiny shake and exhaling lightly. “Just coffee for now. But we are  _ absolutely _ going to have that conversation,” she added while fixing him with a firm stare.

“You’re the boss,” he said, this time with a carefree and cheeky grin as he hopped up to get her some coffee. “You are still the boss, right? You didn’t reconsider your recently reneged resignation?”

Pepper just shook her head and closed her eyes as she massaged the bridge of her nose. It was far too early to be dealing with the cacophony that was Tony Stark. She absently wondered exactly how it was that so soon after almost dying (apparently in more ways than just being blown up by drones!), he was already back to being himself. Or, more accurately, she wondered how it was that he’d apparently left behind his self-destructive coping tendencies.

Her gaze drifted to the table where he’d been sitting when she’d walked in. “What is all this?” she nodded her head to the constant scroll of text and images visible on the surface.

“Catching up on things after last night,” he offered with a casual shrug, mug in one hand and coffee pot in the other. “Trying to get a handle on just how much damage we’re dealing with. That asshole not only wrecked the Expo, but did a hell of a number on the surrounding area too.”

Pepper considered the implications of him uttering those sentences. Deep down she knew he wasn’t as arrogant, dismissive, and as much of an asshole as he led the world to believe. She knew he had a big heart and wanted more than anything to just do the right thing. The trouble was, he’d always had a bit of difficulty with the finesse of making that happen.

“Do I dare ask what kind of damage control and cleanup we’re looking at?” he asked as he set down a mug of steaming coffee in front of her. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. I’ll pay for whatever it takes to fix it.”

Pepper blinked. She wasn’t used to Tony being quite so  _ upfront _ about fixing things. He’d always been the type to try and figure out a way on his own, without telling anyone. But if he was going to extend the proverbial olive branch, she’d be damned if she didn’t grasp it tightly with both hands…

Tony held up a hand, sensing she was about to dive into the first few steps of how they were going to tackle what would surely be a PR nightmare. “Have your coffee. I’m not asking you to work your miracles before you’ve even had a sip of coffee. God only knows how you’re dealing with  _ me _ before coffee,” he said with a quick grin before taking a long drink from his own mug and turning his attention back to the table’s surface.

Pepper smiled, letting herself do exactly what he suggested. There would be a long, long, long list of things to attend to given the events of the previous night, and getting at least one good cup of coffee into her system before she began to think about all of that was probably a very good idea.

But as much as she wanted to treasure these precious moments of peace, she found her eyes drawn to the information on the table in front of Tony. One image caught her eye. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to it.

“Uh, looks like security footage from Hammer’s lab,” Tony answered, enlarging the video player and hitting play. “JARVIS grabbed pretty much everything related to Vanko, so I’m not sure if there’s actually anything-”

“Is that…?” Pepper interrupted as she leaned in, eyes fixed on the figure that seemed  _ very _ familiar.

Tony mirrored Pepper’s movements, leaning in slightly. “Holy shit. It’s Romanoff.”

Pepper frowned and turned her head toward Tony. “Romanoff? Who’s Romanoff?”

“Oh, right,” he said, jabbing at the table with his finger and pausing the video feed. “Guess there’s a few things that you need to be caught up on.” He leaned back in his chair and threaded his fingers together behind his head.

Pepper arched an eyebrow, wordlessly prompting him to provide said explanations. He didn’t put up a fight and instead launched into an explanation. He babbled a bit, and the explanation was punctuated with what she had long ago coined  _ Tony-isms _ , but it did fill in a lot of holes.

“So…let me get this straight,” Pepper said after Tony had finished. “My assistant Natalie is actually Agent Romanoff, who works for SHIELD.”

Tony nodded.

“And she was assigned to monitor you because they were aware of your…condition…which happened to be leading to your premature death.”

“Well, you could argue that with the decisions I’ve made,” he began, trying for some levity, “that maybe it wasn’t so premature…” he trailed off when he saw Pepper’s expression. “Yeah, that’s right,” he amended quickly.

“But you’re not dying anymore?”

Tony shook his head. “Nope. New ticker appears to be working fantastically,” he said, tapping one finger to the spot glowing through his t-shirt.

Pepper chose not to respond and leaned forward, tapping the table to restart the video playback. They watched and winced as guards were dropped and incapacitated with ease. After the final guard fell, the video stopped and both Pepper and Tony found themselves in shock.

“Holy shit,” Tony said.

“What kind of agent is she?” Pepper whispered.

Tony shrugged. “Super secret agent probably.”

“Oh my god,” Pepper whispered suddenly, shaking her head. “She was booking my travel plans, and filing documents, and…and….”

“And…” Tony prompted, unable to keep the grin off his face.

“And she is most certainly not qualified for that!” Pepper said in disbelief.

“That’s a little harsh, Pep,” Tony drawled, enjoying the moment entirely too much. “She did manage to keep up with what was surely the unending list of tasks you assigned her. I’d wager she was almost as good an assistant as you were to me.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, Tony,” she replied quickly. “I meant that all of that was so far beneath her abilities!”

Tony let out a short laugh. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure she knew what she was in for when they assigned her.”

“She made me coffee!” Pepper added weakly, her hands covering her face in total mortification. An apparently very accomplished spy, and she’d had her filing documents, making appointments, and brewing coffee.

Tony leaned over and patted her on the back in a show of comfort. But he was unable to keep from adding one more light-hearted jab. “I’m sure it was great coffee. The very best.”

“Tony!” Pepper said in exasperation.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, holding up his hands in apology. “But hey – added benefit was that you didn’t know it, but you had a supremely qualified bodyguard with you.” He went uncharacteristically quiet for a moment before continuing. “Meant I didn’t have to worry about you, once I knew who she was.”

Pepper offered a smile at his honesty, but suddenly remembered Hammer being thrown against the desk, arm twisted painfully behind him, being pressed for information.

“Hey, hey,” Tony said, pointing at Pepper. “What’s that about? That’s your ‘I-want-to-laugh-but-it-would-be-inappropriate’ face.”

“She threw Hammer onto a desk last night and nearly broke his arm getting Vanko’s location out of him.”

Tony’s eyes widened a moment before a wide grin split on his face and he let out a laugh. “I mean, of course she did. Shame I missed it. I hope there’s footage of that somewhere.”

Pepper had thought Tony being Iron Man would be the shock of her life (after realizing that she was falling in love with him, that is). Who knew things would become so much more complicated after that?

“Oh my god, now I’m going to have to hire someone else,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “How are we going to hire anyone after last night?”

Tony stared in confusion. “Pep, people will line up out the door to get a job here. Don’t worry about that.”

“That’s  _ exactly _ what I’m worried about,” she countered. “We clearly aren’t good at vetting potential employees if we didn’t notice an undercover agent!”

“Well that’s not really on you. It just means I’m good at my job.”

Tony and Pepper both jumped, each letting out a noise of surprise as they turned to find the very woman they had been discussing, standing in front of them.

“Agent Romanoff, long time no see,” Tony said, snapping his fingers and then pointing finger guns at her in a  _ very _ poor attempt to mask his surprise.

“If only,” she said drily, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes, well, I thought our time together was done, so I’m really not sure what you’re doing here looking ominous and like you could break every bone in my body with your pinky.”

“Director Fury sent me to check on things,” she said as her eyes swept over the room appraisingly. “And to let you know you have a meeting with him later today.”

Tony frowned. “I definitely don’t remember that being on the books. But then again, the role of my PA is unexpectedly vacant, so I guess some things could’ve fallen through the cracks.”

Natasha just glared. “2pm. Don’t keep him waiting.”

Tony half-heartedly mock saluted. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Her gaze narrowed fractionally at his antics and to Natasha’s credit, Pepper swore that Tony shrunk back a little bit.

“Thank you,” Pepper said, breaking the silence that had unexpectedly formed. “For everything.”

“No thanks necessary. I was just doing my job.”

“All the same, you saved his life. And Rhodey’s. So thank you, uh…” She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry. I’ve just realized Tony didn’t tell me your first name.”

A sly smile curled on her lips. “That’s because he doesn’t remember it.” She stepped forward and held out her hand to Pepper. “Natasha Romanoff.”

“Nice to meet you, Natasha,” Pepper said with a smile, shaking her hand.

“Hang on,” Tony said, leaning in between them and pushing their hands apart. “If you’re an undercover agent, isn’t rule  _ numero uno _ to not divulge your identity?”

Natasha’s gaze dropped pointedly to Tony’s hand which was still touching her arm, and then back up to his face. He pulled his hand away hurriedly and crossed his arms in response.

“First,” she began, her voice steady and deliberate. “As soon as Director Fury revealed my identity to you, the op’s nature changed. Not to mention you’ve already told Ms. Potts about me, so your point is moot.”

Tony opened his mouth to retort, but she pressed on. “And second, how do you know that’s actually my identity?” she asked, an eyebrow arched and gaze locked with Tony’s.

“Oh, you’re good,” Tony said, jaw dropping as he leaned back and shook his head in amazement. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Ignore him,” Pepper suggested with a roll of her eyes. “It’s what I do most of the time.”

Another smile curled across Natasha’s lips. “Sounds like an excellent idea.”

“By the way, big fan of how you kicked ass at Hammer’s lab. Seriously impressive,” Tony said, unable to keep himself out of the conversation.

Natasha tilted her head. “I need you to wipe that footage.”

“What? Why?” Tony protested. “That’s going into my personal archive.”

Pepper’s head whipped around, and both her and Natasha’s glares settled on Tony at the same time. “Whoa, whoa. Calm down,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean it  _ that  _ way. I just meant that I need something to embarrass Happy with.”

“Wipe it,” Natasha warned. “Or I will.”

Tony stayed still, trying to figure out if he actually needed to heed her warning, and if she was actually good enough to get into his system. Before he could reply, JARVIS’ voice filled the room. “Sir, I suggest you do as she asks. She accessed a number of my files and databases during her time here without your knowledge.”

“What!?” Tony exclaimed, his voice rising in pitch ever so slightly. “J, you’re supposed to tell me things like that.”

“Agent Romanoff ensured I would be unable to do so.”

“Yet you’re telling me now,” he said in exasperation with a wild gesture of his hands.

“She released the protocols she put in place before announcing her presence to you this morning.”

“Guess I have a bit of reprogramming to do.”

“I’ll remind you that she also hacked into Colonel Rhodes’ suit, and would assuredly be capable of doing so on yours in future.”

Tony’s gaze swung over to meet Natasha’s. His right hand’s fingers drummed a fast rhythm on the knuckles of his left as he let out a heavy exhale. “Okay, 007,” he relented finally. “Have it your way. But know that I could’ve made another fortune with that footage. And I would’ve cut you in on the profits.”

“You should probably erase the footage from the day we met you,” Pepper added, remembering the ferocity with which the redhead had taken down Happy.

“Pep,” Tony whined.

Natasha said nothing, but nodded to Pepper and then swung her gaze back to Tony once more.

He let out a puff of frustration. “Fine. Are we done now? Because I feel like we’re done. This is my home, after all. And if I remember correctly, and by the way I do, I didn’t invite you in.”

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Natasha said with a slight tilt of her head and an amused tinge to her tone. “And good luck with the search for a new assistant, Ms. Potts,” she finished, her tone feeling decidedly more sincere.

“Please, call me Pepper. I’m not your boss anymore,” Pepper said with a smile. “And thank you Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha looked thoughtful for a moment. “Please,” she said with a smile, “Natasha is fine.”

“Okay. See ya, Natasha,” Tony said with a grin and an obnoxious wave of his hand.

Natasha whipped a glare over to Tony. “Agent Romanoff,” she corrected.

Tony frowned. “But you just-”

“I said Pepper could call me Natasha. You are not Pepper.”

Tony let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh just get the hell out of my house already,  _ Agent Romanoff _ .”

“2pm,” she reminded him. “Location’s been sent to your phone. Don’t be late.”

“Bye, Natasha,” Pepper jumped in before Tony could say anything else.

Natasha nodded and then turned on her heel before walking swiftly out of the house.

“Okay, what the hell?” Tony said with a shake of his head. “Seriously, when did you two become besties?”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “We’re not besties. We are just able to have a professional work relationship, something you are clearly not capable of.”

“I may have been drunk, but I know you weren’t exactly happy with her at my birthday party, so what gives?”

“It was misplaced anger,” Pepper said pointedly. She paused for a moment before adding quietly, “And she saved your life.”

Tony nodded gently, the weight of Pepper’s added thought settling in his mind. “So just me you hate then?” he said softly with a smile, the cheeky, teasing tone having given way to one of fondness.

“There are many, many things I hate about you,” she replied, matching his tone.

Tony smiled, eyes crinkling as he leaned in to kiss her. “Still not weird, right?” he whispered after they ended the kiss.

Pepper couldn’t help her own smile from spreading. “Not weird at all,” she answered with a shake of her head.

“Good. Let’s give that another go then,” he suggested with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did you enjoy Tony's quips? Pepper's mortification?
> 
> Have an idea for a future moment to cover? Let me know! Always nice to see what y'all think!


	5. I Didn't Grow Up in a Regular Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor learns a little about his new teammates, and even Natasha decides to share a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because there's not nearly enough written about the friendship between Thor and Natasha.
> 
> Enjoy.

"So exactly how old are you, Thor?" Captain Rogers asked as he tipped his beer back to finish it off.

"Almost 1,500 years." Everyone's eyes widened and Thor grinned. He would never tire of that reaction. "I have learned this is quite different from your human life spans."

Barton laughed. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Time must feel totally different to you," Banner mused.

Thor shrugged. "It is what I am accustomed to."

"What's the legal drinking age on Asgard?" Stark asked from the bar, hands busy mixing himself another drink.

"Trust Tony Stark to be asking the hard hitting questions," Natasha remarked wryly.

"I choose to accept your words but not the tone, Widow," he lobbed back while pointing an accusing finger at her.

Thor seized the slight lull to answer the question that had been posed. "We are babes for-"

"Against my better judgment, I'm gonna stop you right there, because that word has a different meaning here," Stark interjected as he sat back down.

"Babe?" Thor guesses.

"Technically it's correct," Natasha jumped in, silencing Stark with a look, "but colloquially it's used to refer to, uh, a beautiful woman."

"Such as yourself?" Thor asked. He was familiar with the standard of beauty on Asgard, and Darcy had been diligent in providing education on earth customs, including the 'who's who of Hollywood' as she called it. It seemed to follow, by his understanding at least, that Natasha would fall under that description.

Barton and Stark both burst into laughter, while Banner and Captain Rogers shifted uncomfortably. Natasha, for her part, sent deadly glares to her partner and Stark which quieted their laughter quickly.

"Y'know, this guy's really starting to grow on me," Stark said with a wide grin.

Thor frowned. "Did I say something wrong?"

Captain Rogers jumped in. "No, not at all. Stark is just being crass, as usual. Agent Romanoff is-"

"Right here and able to speak for herself," she interrupted. "And really, Cap...Agent Romanoff? We fought aliens together. I think you're okay to use my first name." Cap smiled bashfully and nodded. She turned back to face Thor before continuing. "You didn't say anything wrong, Thor. In fact, it's very kind of you to say."

He smiled. "I merely speak the truth. You are not only a beautiful woman, but also a skilled and fierce warrior. Fine qualities in a woman."

"Uh, yeah, thanks," she replied, the slightest hint of awkwardness seeping into her tone.

"You're not going to jump in here to defend your woman, Barton?" Stark prodded.

Barton shrugged. "First, she's not 'my woman.' And second, she can handle herself. Doesn't need me. Never has."

Natasha smiled at his answer as she finished off her drink.

"Guess that answers the question of who wears the pants in your relationship."

Thor frowned as he tried to work out the meaning behind Stark's words.

"What was your childhood like?" Captain Rogers asked, obviously eager to get away from the apparently uncomfortable topic.

"It was wonderful," Thor answered. "Loki and I spent much time together, him causing quite a bit of mischief and me usually the victim of said mischief."

"And that was fun for you?" Banner asked, one eyebrow arched doubtfully.

"Yes," Thor answered with a wide grin. "I have many fond memories of our time together. And of course my mother and father loved to spoil us, though never to excess."

"Isn't the very definition of spoiling meaning to excess?" Stark offered.

"Glass houses, Stark..." Natasha said, with a tone of warning. Thor frowned again, trying to understand the meaning of yet another confusing phrase.

"Oh, whatever, Natalie."

Thor's frown deepened. _Natalie?_

"She's not wrong, Stark," Barton pointed out. "You grew up pretty comfortably."

"When did this become about me? We're talking about Thor."

"I thought everything was about you, Stark," Natasha said with a smirk curling on her lips and an eyebrow arching in a challenge.

"What of you, Captain Rogers?" Thor asked, doing his best to guide the conversation back to the topic at hand, and away from phrases with which he wasn't familiar. "What was your childhood like?"

"Well, I was a lot smaller."

"That's what growing up means, Cap," Barton interjected with a grin and a laugh that Cap pointedly ignored.

"What I mean is, I was pretty sick most of the time. It was a different time o' course, medicine wasn't as good as it is now and water wasn't always the cleanest. And of course, we were at war so that changed everything too. But still, Bucky and I had some good times," he finished with a fond smile.

"And you, Banner?" Thor asked as he turned to face the doctor.

The man shrugged. "Pretty standard except I always had my nose in a book. Never blew up the house with any experiments but did set fire to a few things over the years."

"So you always had a love of science?" Thor confirmed.

Banner nodded. "Since I can remember, yeah."

"Then you were truly destined to be a man of science," Thor declared.

Banner shrugged. "I guess."

Thor turned his head toward Barton, now eager to learn more about his teammates. It was increasingly clear to him that he didn't know much about his new friends, and the conversation was proving fruitful in providing some details.

"Me? Nothing special," Barton said with a dismissive wave. "Ran away to the circus at one point though."

Thor frowned, unfamiliar with the term. "The circus?"

"It's, uh, like a carnival or a festival I guess you could say. It's where I learned to shoot a bow."

"That's not in your file," Stark accused.

Barton arched an eyebrow. "It's not relevant to my file. Besides, I don't hear you offering up nuggets about your childhood."

"You want the Tony Stark biography? To sum up, unlike Bruce I blew a lot of shit up and set a lot of things on fire. Luckily my dad figured out pretty early on that I needed a place to mess around with stuff so he gave me a workshop to do my building and engineering in. Most folks would say I grew up exceptionally spoiled. I would argue not everything about my life was great. But it is what it is, and we're here now. And, as Barton said, it's not relevant to my file, so not up for public consumption."

Thor turned his head toward the last member of their group, but found an empty space on the couch. "Where'd Natasha go?"

The rest of the team exchanged some looks that Thor can't quite decipher, but takes to mean they all understand and know something he isn't privy to.

"Just refilling my drink, Thor," she said, reappearing seemingly out of thin air. "Now, are we going to talk about this boring shit all night, or are we going to eat some dinner? Because I, for one, am hungry."

There's a stunned silence that lingered for a few seconds before Barton piped up. "Dinner sounds good. What're you in the mood for? Chinese?"

"We had Chinese last time," she argued. "Thai?"

"Cap can't handle the chopsticks anyway."

"I can use a fork!"

"That's not allowed," Stark interjected. "Breaks the unspoken code. Like eating pizza with a fork and a knife...you just don't."

"Indian?" Banner offered.

"Missing your adopted home?" Natasha teased.

"I could do Indian," Stark agreed. "There's that place...what's it called? Nana's?" he guessed, snapping his fingers for emphasis.

"Don't pretend like you actually know the names of places beyond Burger King and McDonalds, Stark," Barton accused with a laugh.

"I will have you know that I know more than a few places. Probably keep a few in business, come to think of it. And anyway, JARVIS knows the name, right J?"

"I do indeed, sir. Shall I place the same order as last time?"

"Fine by me...unless there are any objections? No? Excellent, make it so, J."

* * *

The food had arrived not long after, and despite Darcy and Jane's continued efforts to introduce him to all the different kinds of Midgardian food, it was a variety he had not yet had the pleasure of trying.

His new friends and fellow warriors had explained the dishes to him, warning him of the spice. But the flavours had been rich on his tongue and reminded him of the more rare meals they had at their feasts on Asgard.

Stark and Banner had disappeared shortly after their meal, presumably to spend time in the laboratory as they tended to do on most days when the team's skills were not needed in battle. Captain Rogers had left not long after that, explaining his need to catch up on some paperwork - a concept with which Thor was only beginning to understand thanks to Jane's explanations. Barton had disappeared at some point after their meal to "make some calls" as Natasha had explained.

And so it was only he and the Lady Natasha left in the common area.

"You done, Thor?" she asked.

He met her gaze and offered a warm smile. "Yes."

"How did you like it?"

"It was delicious. It reminded me of some of the food we have on Asgard that's served during our feasts after great battles. They are laborious dishes only served on the most special of occasions, but are always eagerly anticipated by all."

She smiled as she began to close the containers that still had food in them. "You know, I have to be honest, I never would have guessed Asgardian food would be most like Indian food."

Thor laughed deeply, the sound reverberating from his belly. "What did you expect?"

She shook her head, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I don't know… Fish? Definitely potatoes, for some reason. Maybe sausages?"

"We have many different dishes that feature a variety of meat and plants. From what I understand, that is also the case here on earth, but the flavours and cooking style vary by location on the planet?"

"Yeah, that's right," she answered, nodding as she began to stack the containers, presumably to carry them to the kitchen area. Thor moved over to assist her by taking a stack before she could add them to her pile. She smiled gratefully before beginning to walk.

Suddenly he remembered that he had heard nothing of her childhood during their earlier discussion. His curiosity for his fellow warriors had piqued, given that he knew little about them beyond what they had told him and even then it seemed they were not prone to share often. Natasha in particular seemed to be quite private with her feelings, and really anything beyond what was strictly required for their activities, so all he knew of the woman they called the Black Widow was that she was a highly skilled fighter despite her small stature.

"I'm curious," he began somewhat tentatively, "what was your childhood like?"

She paused her action of stacking the containers into the refrigerator to turn around and face him.

He saw something in her eyes that told him it wasn't a topic that she wanted to discuss so he began to backtrack quickly, offering her a way out if she wanted. "I only ask because you were the only one to not speak earlier. I do not mean to pry. You do not owe me any explanations."

She smiled, but Thor could tell it was only for his benefit. "It's not something I talk about really. It…" she trailed off as her brow furrowed, clearly searching for the right description. "It wasn't so much a childhood as a time when I was a child."

Thor frowned as he tried to understand her meaning. _Wasn't the time as a child specifically called childhood? Why would she make the distinction?_

"I didn't grow up in a regular place," she elaborated, but Thor knew this was her way of providing more information without actually providing more information. Loki had often done the same. "It was more of a, uh, school, I guess you'd say."

He frowned more deeply, confused by her explanation. "Like an academy?" he asked. They had those on Asgard. Some children with aptitudes for certain things were tutored in academies for those skills. He'd been taught all manner of things as a result of his path to the throne, but many other Asgardian children were more focused in their study.

She tilted her head, considering it. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"And that is not the norm for Midgardian children?"

Her head shook immediately and fervently. "No, no, how I grew up was not how most kids grow up."

He thought back to the other things his new teammates had told him of their youth. It seemed none of them shared any particular experiences to make them similar. "What is the norm here?"

Natasha closed the refrigerator after stacking the last container of leftover food. Her expression was thoughtful. Almost wistful if Thor were to put a name to it.

"It's different for each country, but generally kids live with their family, go to school, and grow up learning skills that are applicable later in life."

"Such as?"

She shrugged. "Again, depends where they are, but just general stuff. I'm not really the person to ask though. Jane might have a better answer for you."

Thor frowned as he tried to piece together the fragments of information she'd given. It was clear to him that she believed she hadn't had a "normal" experience as a child.

"And what of your parents?" he asked. _Had they been warriors too?_

Her lips pursed before she pushed past him gently on her way back to the sitting area. "I didn't know them." Her tone was matter-of-fact and a bit brusque, and he realized instantly that this too was a sore subject for her.

His thoughts turned to his own parents for a moment, recalling the love and enduring wisdom they had imparted to him over the years. He felt a sadness grow within him as he realized that was something she clearly hadn't had. "I'm sorry," he offered gently.

"Me too," she said softly as she picked up her mobile phone from the table and slid it into her pocket. "But I think I'm going to head to bed. Goodnight, Thor."

He blinked at her sudden words of departure and suddenly worried he'd offended her. "Natasha," he began hastily as he reached out to grab her arm gently to halt her movement. She looked up at him, head tilted in a silent question. "I meant no offense with my questions. I merely sought to learn more about you as my fellow warrior. If you wish, I will refrain from asking more questions. I can see you value your privacy."

She eyed him for a moment silently, her gaze searching him for something he can't guess. "Yes, I do. But that doesn't mean I won't share things with you. It just means that there are things I don't talk about with anyone."

He nodded his understanding. Everyone had their secrets, and he was no exception.

"A girl has to have some secrets, after all," she added with a teasing smile.

He grinned, understanding the sentiment of her joke. Then his expression sobered for a moment. "Thank you," he said solemnly, knowing she had chosen to be vulnerable with him to explain her hesitancy to him.

She smiled again. "Goodnight, Thor."

He nodded in reply. "Goodnight, Natasha."

He watched as she disappeared down the hallway and into the elevator and he wondered if she would ever feel comfortable sharing more. She had said her youth was not the norm for a Midgardian child, and he got the impression that was because it was worse in some way. From the little he knew of her, Natasha Romanoff was renowned as a skilled warrior and master in espionage and trickery. These were the types of skills honed over years and years, and not ones easily picked up. He thought back to how early on his father had begun to teach him fighting styles, and he began to wonder how early in her life Natasha had started to be trained. Perhaps this academy she'd attended had been a specialized one, focusing on those skills she now possessed.

_Perhaps one day I will learn of her story_ , he thinks to himself as he heads to his room, resolved to make an effort to continue learning more about his new teammates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...thoughts? Feedback? Suggestions for future moments to cover?
> 
> Let me know - always game to hear what y'all think.
> 
> More to come.


	6. 2:45am Out of Habit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat visits the Barton farm unexpectedly, and she and Laura have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's been sitting around in my drafts folder for ages, and I figured it was finally time to revisit the Laura-Nat friendship that I so adore.
> 
> Enjoy!

_ Up for a house guest? _

Laura smiled as she read the text from Natasha. It had been awhile since she’d come to visit. Perhaps foolishly, she had thought the fall of SHIELD and then defeating Ultron would mean Nat would have a bit more free time. But then Steve had asked her to help train the new Avengers team, and all that possible free time disappeared.

**_Of course. You know you’re always welcome here. :-)_ **

_ Need me to bring anything? _

**_Got any good chocolate?_ **

_ I’m offended you asked that. _

Laura shook her head and laughed, sending a laughing emoji in reply.

* * *

Just a few hours later, Laura opened the front door and found Nat standing there, a bag slung over her shoulder.

“Hi,” Nat murmured, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Hi yourself,” Laura echoed, a wide smile on her face at the sight of her friend. “You made good time.”

Nat shrugged. “I took one of Stark’s new quinjet prototypes for a test run.”

“Perk of being the boss around there, huh?”

“Perk of maintaining my terrifying reputation,” she corrected with a smirk. “I get what I want that way.”

Laura shook her head and laughed as she wrapped the redhead in a hug. “I’ve missed you,” she said quietly, feeling Natasha’s arms squeeze her back tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Nat mumbled, her tone not dissimilar to a child facing a disappointed parent. “I know it’s been awhile…”

“No, no,” Laura interrupted as she pulled back to meet Nat’s gaze, “that’s not what I meant.”

Nat was quiet for a moment, and Laura wondered if she’d unintentionally hit a sore spot.  “I know,” she replied softly. “But I’m still sorry. I should have come to visit after Nathaniel was born.”

Laura’s heart clenched at the guilt bleeding out of her tone. Nat had taken everything in stride, but she’d had a hell of a year. SHIELD falling, then everything with Ultron and Wanda’s attack on her mind, and then Bruce… But she’d persevered and come out the other side with what appeared to be a renewed purpose in her new role as a leader in the Avengers. Laura had chalked up her lack of visits to the lack of free time, and nothing more.

Unable to quash her motherly instincts, Laura scrutinized her friend for a moment before she wrapped her up in her arms once more and squeezed tightly. “You’re forgiven.”

Nat offered a small smile as they broke apart. “We better get this chocolate inside before it melts,” she said, holding up a plastic bag full of expensive European chocolate. “Unless you want fondue, that is.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Laura replied with a roll of her eyes, letting the obvious deflection slide. While Nat had never been one to lay all her cards on the table when it came to her emotions, Laura knew their friendship and the inherent trust and level of comfort that came with it afforded the redhead more leeway with sharing these sorts of things. Still, Laura knew they weren’t the kind of thing you forced. Nat would share when she was ready.

“You want some lunch? I have some leftover lasagna from last night you can reheat.”

“I ate before I left,” Natasha said with a shake of her head as they made their way inside. “Thanks though.”

Laura hummed in reply. “I’m gonna grab the little man. You want me to take your bag up?”

Nat’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Up? I thought my namesake had claimed my former room.”

“Clint took Coop and Lila camping for the night, so you can sleep in Lila’s room.”

“The couch is fine.”

“Nat,” Laura said, a tinge of exasperation in her tone as she tilted her head. “You know Lila won’t mind. In fact, she’ll probably be ecstatic her favourite aunt slept in her room.”

“You’re sure?”

Laura nodded. “No reason for you to wreck your neck sleeping on that old thing.”

“Okay,” Natasha agreed with a quick bob of her head. “I’ll bring it up,” she added when Laura held out a hand to grab her bag.

Laura nodded again and then headed up the stairs, hearing Natasha’s almost silent steps behind her. She stepped into Nate’s room and found her son gazing up at her with a smile on his face, and arms clumsily reaching upwards. A smile spread across her face as she reached down to pick him up.  The first few weeks after he was born had been a whirlwind of exhaustion and managing the care of a newborn and two other kids, not to mention getting used to having Clint home full time. But they’d all settled into a rhythm now, and as hesitant as she’d been when she had found out they were going to have another kid, she couldn’t deny how happy she was now that he was here.

“He’s gotten so much bigger.”

Laura turned and found Nat in the doorway. “Yeah, I know. It feels like just yesterday he was this tiny thing in my arms,” she agreed. “You want to hold him?”

Nat offered a small smile. “Sure.”

“Okay, little man,” Laura said as she made her way across the room, “time to meet your Auntie Nat.”

She passed him over carefully, and felt a swell of emotion as he settled happily into her arms, gurgling his delight at meeting someone new. It was clear he felt safe in his aunt’s arms, content to watch her and work out in his own way who she was to him.

“Hi,” Natasha said softly, reaching a finger down to tickle his palm. He grabbed onto it tightly, and smiled widely, his other arm waving in excitement.

“I think he likes you,” Laura said.

Natasha’s smile widened. “I guess so.”

* * *

They spent the next few hours entertaining Nathaniel, munching on pieces of chocolate, catching up on the goings on of both the new Avengers facility and the farmhouse, and then eating dinner.  Natasha had successfully argued her way into solo cleanup duty, despite Laura’s protests, and was in the kitchen washing their plates as Laura stretched out on the couch.

Laura took a deep breath as she considered the question she wanted to ask. Nat’s text had been a surprise, and while nothing seemed out of the ordinary in terms of her behaviour, Laura couldn’t shake the feeling that something had prompted the visit.  “So...” she began, fixing her gaze on her friend’s back as she rinsed one of the last few dishes. “You want to tell me what led to this impromptu visit? Or are we going to stick to gossip and tales of my husband’s idiocy?”

Laura wasn’t surprised when Natasha didn’t freeze up or give away any sort of reaction to the question. The woman was arguably the world’s best spy, after all. She  _ was _ surprised though, when Natasha offered a more honest explanation than she’d been expecting.  “I guess I just needed some time at home.”

Laura considered her words. From the moment Clint brought Nat to the farmhouse for the first time, Laura knew he wanted to give her a place she could look forward to going. A place full of love and not associated with the darkness of her past. A place she could learn to be more than a tool of death.  It had taken a long time, but eventually Natasha had grown comfortable at the farmhouse and had begun to relax more. Laura had found her curled up on the porch late one night, a mug of hot chocolate in her hands as she gazed up at the sky, her expression content.

“I think this is what home feels like,” Natasha had whispered so softly that she’d nearly missed it. Laura's eyes had filled with tears as she realized that Nat hadn’t understood until that moment what she and Clint had been trying to give her. She hadn’t understood what it meant to open up their home to her and encourage her to make it her own as well. She hadn’t understood that they’d been trying to give her the family that she’d never had.

So for Nat to readily admit now that she needed time at home meant something had happened. She doubted it was any sort of fallout from everything with Ultron. As shaken as she had been then, it seemed as though Nat had mostly made her peace with Dr. Banner’s disappearance, and had worked through the impact of the memories that had been dredged up forcefully by Wanda.  And it wasn’t likely to be something related to the missions with the new Avengers team, since they’d only just begun to handle ‘the small potatoes’ as Clint had described. They weren’t ready for the big stuff yet, and were apparently still very much a work in progress.

“Any particular reason why?” Laura asked, mindful to keep her tone light. As serious a question as it might be, there was no reason to ramp up the tension.

She saw Nat shrug. “Not really. It’s been awhile, and I owed you guys a visit.”

Laura didn’t believe that was the extent of it, but didn’t press the issue. “Well, it’s nice to have you around. Clint being here 24/7 has certainly changed the dynamic around here.”

Natasha laughed. “Sick of him already?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Laura explained. “Just made things different. I’d forgotten what it was like to have him around so much.”

“I bet the kids love it,” Nat offered as she finished drying the last plate.

“Oh yeah.” She paused for a beat. “I think he feels guilty though, because he gives into anything and everything they ask for.”

“Making up for lost time.”

“Something like that.”

“Could be worse,” Nat said as she sat down on the other end of the couch. “At least he’s not starting another renovation project.”

Laura laughed. “That’s true. The kids keep him too busy for that.”

“Probably for the best. He told me he was planning on knocking down some walls in the dining room to make room for a workspace for you.”

“Knowing him, he’d start that project, and then get busy with something else and we’d have to stare at partially knocked down walls for months.”

Nat grinned. “That sounds about right.”

They fell into a comfortable silence after that. Laura chanced a quick glance at Natasha and found her leaning back, her eyes closed and her breaths slow and steady.

“He misses you,” Laura said quietly. She wasn’t exactly sure how much Clint and Nat had been communicating after the Ultron debacle, but she suspected it wasn’t as much as her husband hoped for. Nat had pulled away from them both.

Nat’s eyes opened slowly and she turned to face Laura. “It feels strange without him chattering in my ear on missions,” she admitted. Laura offered a smile knowingly. “But it’s good that he’s here.”

“He’s still adjusting, I think.”

“He’ll get there. He deserves some peace and quiet.”

Laura bit her lip. “You do too, Nat.”

Nat shook her head as she spoke. “I’m not wired that way. What you two have...it’s beautiful, and it suits you both. But this life...it’s not mine.”

Laura couldn’t help the sadness that washed over her, and her thoughts drifted to a certain doctor. They’d ended before they could even begin, it seemed. But the implications of her words were so much bigger than a relationship. They spoke to her giving up on finding any semblance of real peace in her life.  “Nat-”

“I spent a long time doing terrible things,” Nat interrupted, her gaze falling back to her hands, “and I know I can’t ever make up for that, but I have to do something.”

“Everything that happened back then…it’s not your-”

“I know,” Nat said softly, not letting Laura finish the sentence that she had said many, many times over the years. “But they spent years drilling it into my head that I was always looking for the next mission, and it’s not a habit that’s easily broken.”

Laura let out a soft sigh. She understood what Nat was saying, but it didn’t mean she had to like it. It pained her to know that Natasha had resigned herself to a life spent trying to clear a ledger that could, by her own admission, never be cleared.

“It’s okay. I’ve made peace with it.”

Laura held her tongue until Nat’s gaze rose to meet hers. “You are more than just that,” she said firmly. “You’re Clint’s best friend, you’re Auntie Nat, and you’re like a sister to me. We named our son after you for a reason, you know.”  Nat offered a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.  Laura sat up and grabbed Natasha’s hands in her own, squeezing them in a show of love. “Nat, you’re so much more than your past. Okay?”

“Okay,” she answered with a tiny nod of her head. She slipped out of Laura’s grasp and stood up. “I’m going to head to bed. It’s been a long day.”

_Or a long year_ , Laura mused. Another obvious deflection, but it wasn’t worth pushing. She’d already revealed more than Laura had thought she would. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Natasha nodded and then headed up the stairs.

* * *

Laura’s eyes opened at 2:45am out of habit, waiting for the inevitable cries from her son. Wonderful as he was, she was still not a fan of the late night wake up calls from him. She rubbed her eyes and let out a yawn as she fought to wake up. Nathaniel had turned out to be remarkably punctual with his nightly wakings, so it was a bit odd for him to still be asleep and chances were high he’d be up soon, making Laura's decision to stay awake an easy one.

If she hadn’t already been awake, she wouldn’t have heard the quiet thump of feet hitting the floor in the room down the hall. Laura waited, and listened carefully. A moment later she heard shuffling feet and the sound of something hitting the ground.  Laura frowned as she tried to explain the sounds. She dismissed the thought of an intruder immediately, knowing that between Clint and Nat the property was so well wired with defenses and alarms that there was no way someone had snuck in. Which left Nat as the source of the noise...but Nat wasn’t clumsy. She knew the layout of this house, and each of the rooms like the back of her hand. Nat wouldn’t make that much noise.

Laura sat up as her thoughts turned from a trickle to a more steady flow. Natasha had seemed out of sorts after dinner, and their conversation had drifted onto an uncomfortable topic. Laura’s mind cycled back to Nat’s abrupt text, and her subsequent arrival just a few hours later. She didn’t normally take a quinjet, usually preferring to drive. Maybe it was just circumstance, or maybe Nat had  _ needed _ to come home sooner rather than later.

Laura heard no further sounds as she considered whether checking on Nat was required. She didn’t want to hover, and she didn’t want to infringe on her friend’s space, but this seemed out of the ordinary.  Her moment of indecision was broken by Nathaniel’s cries, which pierced through the otherwise quiet house. Laura’s instincts took over and her worry for her friend took a reluctant backseat to caring for her son. She swung her legs out of bed, moving swiftly out of the room, down the hallway, and into his room. He wasn’t due for a feeding, and Laura confirmed he didn’t need a diaper change, so he clearly just needed a little soothing. Nate quieted quickly once in her arms, and a few moments of soft singing and gentle stroking on his back had him already slipping back into slumber. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to wake up again immediately, she moved quietly out of his room and closed the door partially.

Her worry for Nat bloomed once more and she found herself standing outside the door to her daughter’s room. She leaned close, listening for something to explain the uncharacteristic sounds she’d heard. When she heard nothing, she frowned and made her decision, knocking softly. “Nat?”

No answer.

“Nat?” she tried again with another set of knocks. There was again no response, and Laura felt more worry piling up. Not stopping to think, she spoke again. “Nat, I’m coming in,” she said, knowing that if any part of Nat was listening, the warning would be appreciated.

She turned the knob slowly and pushed the door open gently. Her gaze swept over the room quickly, finding the blankets hanging off the bed, and Lila’s pencil case on the floor. A few seconds later, Laura’s eyes found her friend and she inhaled sharply. Natasha was pressed into the corner, knees drawn up to her chest with her arms curled tightly around them. Her eyes were wide and vacant as she stared straight ahead. The dim light of the moon coming in through the window let Laura see the sheen of sweat on her skin.

Probably a nightmare, Laura concluded. Natasha had never shared the contents of her nightmares with Laura, but she knew that if Clint’s were anything to go by, they were definitely traumatizing, to say the least. Natasha never screamed, though. The silence was no doubt a byproduct of being taught to endure torture without making a sound, a fact which made Laura want to throw up.

“Oh, Nat,” she whispered as she took a few steps toward her friend. When she didn’t flinch, Laura moved the last few steps and knelt down in front of her. “Nat,” she said, louder this time.

Laura blinked as she remembered that Natasha’s nightmares were almost always triggered by something. The programming or brainwashing or whatever the hell it was that she’d been exposed to growing up left her more vulnerable than most to these kinds of things. It’s why she’d buried it all so deep, and why SHIELD had done their best to get rid of all the triggers. But it was hard to predict what might be a trigger. Sometimes it was obvious things she came across during her missions, and sometimes it was mundane everyday things that came up and brought to the surface the fractured memories of her time in the Red Room. She must’ve stumbled onto something during a mission, and it was rearing its ugly head now. No wonder she had looked so tired, and had come to visit so unexpectedly. She needed familiarity to ground her, and her need for privacy meant she’d decided to visit, knowing the nightmares would come and she’d rather suffer them here than at the base.

“Natasha,” she said firmly, leaning over and reaching a hand out to try and rouse her. “Nat, c’mon wake up.”

But it had no effect. Laura continued calling her name, in increasingly frantic tones, trying to wake her from the nightmare that she was firmly stuck in.

“NAT! Please,” Laura begged, feeling tears pool in her eyes as she felt helplessness overcome her. “ _ Please _ wake up. C’mon, Nat.”

But no matter what she tried, Natasha wouldn’t wake. She just stared ahead, the vacant expression still on her face. Whatever horrors her mind had brought to the surface during her sleep, clearly hadn’t disappeared yet. Laura looked at her friend, trying desperately to figure out a way to wake her from the nightmare she was stuck in.

“I’m here, Nat,” she said firmly. “I’m here. You’re okay.” She took a breath. “You’re gonna be okay,” she amended. “I’m here. Just…come back to me, okay? I need you to listen to my voice and come back to me.”

Laura let out a breathy, worried sigh as Nat still didn’t respond. Laura sat back and dropped her hand away from Nat’s face. She glanced around the room, looking for inspiration of just how to wake up her friend from the horrors she was stuck in, and spotted a glass of water on the nightstand. Rising to her feet quickly, she grabbed it, deciding that it definitely couldn’t hurt giving it a try. She took a small step backwards, putting a bit more distance between her and Natasha. If this worked, it was entirely possible that Nat would retaliate in some way, and Laura definitely didn’t want to be within striking range when that happened.

She threw the water from the glass and watched as it hit Natasha’s face. It took a moment but Nat began to blink rapidly and her head jerked up. She let out a heavy exhale as she stretched out her legs and Laura knew then that she was awake.

“Hey,” Laura said, grabbing a towel from the dresser and holding it out to her. “You back with me?”

“Yeah,” Natasha croaked as she accepted the towel and began to dry her face.

“Sorry about the water, but I couldn’t wake you up.”

Nat’s eyes scanned the room quickly, confusion evident in her features. “What happened?” she asked roughly before coughing gently to clear her throat.

“You were stuck in a nightmare, I think. I tried waking you up, but you didn’t respond. The water was a last resort.”

Nat blinked as she processed Laura’s explanation. “Thanks,” she said finally.

“Don’t worry about it, Nat. Are you…” she trailed off, knowing the question was stupid, but unable to help herself from asking it anyway. “You okay?”

Nat licked her lips. “I’m fine,” she said, her tone steely and unwavering, but detached.

“Okay,” Laura said with a nod. She wasn’t convinced, but she wasn’t going to push either. Clint would be home in a few hours, and he was definitely the best equipped to help Nat sort through this. “Well, if you want to talk...you know where I am,” she offered, knowing it was very unlikely Nat would ever take her up on it.

Laura glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing it was just after 3am. She figured sleep wasn’t likely to come quickly after the adrenaline rush, and she’d probably need to be up again for Nate in an hour or so anyway.

“I don’t even know what triggered it.” Laura froze as she heard Natasha’s whispered words. “It was a quick, easy mission. Get in, grab the intel, and get out. But something happened to trigger it, and now the memories won’t stop.”

“What memories?” She hadn’t meant to ask, to pry into Natasha’s painful past, but the moment of vulnerability had caught her off guard. She sat down beside Nat, sensing that it might be comforting.

“The Red Room,” she answered, her tone flat. “From when I was really young.” Natasha swallowed and breathed in a few heavy breaths before she spoke again. “I don’t even know if it’s real, or if it’s something they planted in my head.”

Laura blinked as she tried to wrap her head around Natasha’s unexpected explanation. “These memories,” she began, “they’re more frequent now? Since the thing with Wanda, I mean.”

Natasha nodded. “Yeah. Whatever Ultron had her do must have opened up some other stuff. I always remembered my training, and some of the nastier  _ persuasive exercises _ they put us through when we were older to make sure we were loyal to the program. But the earlier stuff...from when we were still kids… I thought most of it had been washed away by the deprogramming SHIELD did, but I guess it’s just been sitting there, waiting to surface,” she said bitterly.

Laura grappled with how to respond. She was way out of her depth here. “What can I do?” she finally settled on.

Natasha shook her head. “Nothing to do,” she said, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes, letting out a frustrated exhale.

Laura reached over and held her hand. She heard another frustrated exhale and gave Nat’s hand a squeeze.  _ I’m here. _

“I’m just tired, Laura,” Nat admitted softly, her head tipping forward and her gaze fixating on the wall opposite them. “This has been going on for awhile now.”  Laura stayed quiet, sensing Nat had more to say.  “I guess I hoped that a change of scenery might help.”

Laura smiled sadly as Nat confirmed why she’d come home. She’d been looking for a feeling of safety and security that would let her sleep. “You want to give it another try? Or should I put the kettle on?”

Nat licked her lips again. “Got any alcohol?”

“I think there’s some vodka in the freezer,” she said, getting up and offering a hand to help Nat up. “Let’s head downstairs.”

Natasha didn’t hesitate, grabbing the offered hand and letting herself be pulled to her feet. Laura wrapped an arm around her waist, uncertain how steady Natasha would be after the rude awakening. She guided her down the stairs, and left her on the couch as she went to retrieve a glass and the bottle she was pretty certain was hidden at the back of the freezer. Probably by Nat herself, considering it was the good stuff.  When she returned a minute later, Nat hadn’t moved. Laura held out the bottle and the glass. Nat grabbed the bottle and flicked off the cap before taking a long swig straight from the bottle.

“Okay, no glass then,” Laura murmured, putting it down on the table and plopping down on the couch beside Nat. She idly wondered if providing the alcohol had been a bad idea.

“Don’t worry, there isn’t enough here for me to get properly drunk,” Nat said, her watchful eyes having caught the worry in Laura’s expression. “Just enough to dull some things, hopefully.”  Laura couldn’t help the frown that formed. Nat tilted her head and arched an eyebrow. “Relax, I’m not an alcoholic.”

“If you keep not being able to sleep, I wouldn’t be surprised if you became one,” Laura lobbed back, deciding on somewhat of a tough love approach. She may feel awful for Nat being unable to sleep, but she wasn’t about to let her begin to spiral downward. Alcohol was okay, so long as Nat behaved.

Nat’s brow arched again, her expression giving away her amusement at Laura’s response. She took another swig.

“Have you talked to Clint about your nightmares?”

It was a few seconds before Nat responded with a shake of her head. “We haven’t talked much.”

“Why not?”

Nat shrugged and took a smaller sip. “You guys have a new baby, and like I said, he deserves some peace and quiet.”

“You’re his best friend, Nat. You are very much a part of that peace and quiet.”

“I am the complete opposite of peace and quiet, Laura. I’m still immersed in the world he left. I don’t want to accidentally drag him back in.”  Laura was struck by the raw honesty Natasha was offering.  “If he knew I was struggling, he’d be back in a heartbeat.”

Laura knew she was right. Clint wouldn’t hesitate to head back there to help his best friend - the woman who’d saved him more times than Laura could count. “Then why come here? You knew you wouldn’t be able to hide it from him.”

Natasha stayed quiet, and Laura read into the silence. Nat had been desperate. She’d  _ wanted _ Clint to notice.

“There’s no shame in asking for help, Nat. Spend some time here, let him help you. Let  _ us _ help you.”

“I’m supposed to be past this shit,” she said bitterly after another drink.

Laura understood the frustration. Nat had worked so damn hard to overcome everything the Red Room had done to her, only to be thrown right back into the thick of it. Clint deserved peace and quiet, yes, but perhaps Natasha deserved it even more.

“Maybe,” Laura hedged, weighing her next words carefully, “but you’re in a life that’s going to constantly be throwing this kind of stuff at you. If you want out, no one would judge you. You’ve saved the world a couple of times over now. But if you want to stay in this life, you’re gonna have to live with it. Maybe you move past it, or maybe you learn to deal with it. Either way, you have to live with it.”

Natasha blinked at Laura’s blunt response. Before she could say anything in reply, Nathaniel’s cries filled the house and Laura rose to her feet. She moved to stand in front of Natasha and plucked the bottle away from the redhead. “You got dealt a shitty hand, and I know that’s easy for me to say standing here having had a lovely childhood by comparison, but it’s the truth. I will do everything in my power to help you, Nat. Clint will too, you know that. But you have to let go of the bitterness. And you won’t find relief at the bottom of this bottle.”

Natasha blinked as her gaze met the fierce stare of Laura. She didn’t say anything, and Laura headed upstairs, the bottle still held in her hand.

* * *

The two women were quiet as they milled about the kitchen the next morning, Natasha preparing some coffee and Laura flipping pancakes. Laura snuck a glance at Nat and found absolutely nothing amiss in her appearance, expression, or posture. It was as though the nightmare and their conversation that followed hadn’t happened.

Laura wasn’t surprised. She’d known Nat for years, and knew that as a rule, Nat didn’t tend to dwell on most things.

_ “We have what we have when we have it,” she’d once said with a shrug. “Not much point getting hung up on what we don’t have, can’t have, or will never have.” _

Laura did wonder if Natasha had actually faced the reality of their conversation, or if she had simply compartmentalized it into a tiny box at the back of her mind. Suddenly, c ries rang out from the upper floor, interrupting her musing.

“Looks like the prince is finally awake,” Natasha said dryly, tilting her head slightly to look up the stairs.

“Do you mind grabbing him?” Laura asked, pouring out the batter for another pancake. Natasha gave a wave of her hand that Laura supposed meant yes, so she turned her attention back to the task at hand.

“Honey! I’m home!” Clint called as the back door swung open loudly.

Laura jumped. “Don’t do that!” she scolded, her hand pressed firmly over her racing heart.

Clint smiled sheepishly as he moved in behind her and wrapped his arms around her tenderly. “Sorry,” he murmured into her hair before pressing a kiss to her head. “I missed you,” he added after a beat.

Laura felt the small pieces of irritation melt away. “Two whole days and you missed me? I must be doing something right, “ she teased, glancing into the living room where both kids were already in front of the TV watching cartoons.

“Aw, c’mon. You missed me too. Must have been lonely here without me and the kids.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “First of all, our son was with me.”

Clint let out a light laugh. “Yeah, but he’s not so great with the conversations, so he doesn’t really count.”

“Our son doesn’t count?” she replied in mock horror.

Clint laughed again. “Not in this context. What’s the second of all?”

“Nat’s here.”

Clint’s body tensed for a fraction of a moment before he relaxed, and Laura’s thoughts turned to Nat’s admission of fear that she would drag him back in. _Maybe Clint feared the same thing._

“Oh? When’d she get here? I didn’t get a message from her.”

“She texted me to ask if I’d mind a house guest and then showed up a few hours later.”

Clint opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Natasha appearing in the doorway, Nate happily gurgling in her arms. “Hey, Nat,” he said instead.

“Hey, Clint,” she replied easily, a small smile on her lips. “Been awhile.”

Clint, for his part, looked just a touch guilty as he replied. “Yeah, guess it has been.”

Laura watched as his eyes scrutinized every inch of his former partner, cataloguing everything he’d missed in the months that had passed. He’d notice the weight on her shoulders, the bags under her eyes, and all the signs that Laura had missed the day before.

“You’ve gotten rusty,” Nat accused, meeting his gaze with unblinking eyes and clearly calling him out on his obvious scrutiny. Her expression was teetering on the line between pissed off and relieved.

“And you’ve gotten soft,” he lobbed back with a daring grin, glancing meaningfully to his son who was still happily ensconced in her arms.

Her eyebrow arched. “You want to test that theory?”

“No, no,” Laura said quickly. “None of that. We’re eating breakfast. Clint, take your son. Nat, get the coffee.”

* * *

Clint had waited until after they finished breakfast to “rescue” Nat from Cooper and Lila’s  _ exhaustive _ stories about their mini camping trip. As they walked out the front door to head toward the barn, he turned and gave Laura a look that was both grateful and apologetic. He knew the kids were going to be a handful while he was out of the house, and she knew that his conversation with Nat wasn’t going to be about sunshine and rainbows. But it was a trade-off they were both willing to make.

They’d stayed out there for a couple of hours, and it had taken everything in Laura’s arsenal to keep the kids entertained and busy so they wouldn’t go running off and interrupt something they shouldn’t be seeing in the first place. But when Clint and Nat came back, Laura knew that whatever they’d talked about had been worthwhile, because the weight that had been pushing down on Nat seemed to have lifted a bit, and her eyes had brightened up a touch.  The kids had immediately whisked her away to be a part of whatever game they had come up with, and Nat went along with them willingly, a smile growing on her face.

Laura put down the knife she’d been using to peel potatoes for dinner and turned around to face her husband. “So…” she prompted.

Clint rubbed the back of his head with his hand. “We talked.”

Laura tried very hard not to glare at him. “About...”

His expression was sheepish. “About her not visiting.” Laura arched an eyebrow. “And me not calling,” he added quickly.

“Mmhmm…” A beat. “How is she?”

“She’s a trooper,” Clint said cryptically.

Laura frowned at his response. She hadn’t expected the nitty gritty details, but she had expected a bit more than that.

Clint blew out a breath and clenched his fists. “It’s getting harder and harder for me to not jump onto a jet and hunt down anyone left of the bastards that did this to her.”

Laura’s eyes widened a fraction.

He exhaled heavily again. “She’s okay though,” he said, meeting Laura’s gaze. “Really,” he added with a slight nod, clearly aiming for some reassurance. “She’s embarrassed that you saw her like-”

“But I-”

“ _ I know _ ,” Clint said as he held up a hand to stop her reply. “But you try convincing her,” he finished with a half-chuckle.

Laura’s lips curved into a knowing small smile.

“Daaaaaaddddd! We need you!” Cooper yelled from the other room, effectively ending the conversation.

Clint grinned. “Duty calls,” he said with an apologetic shrug before giving Laura a kiss and leaving the kitchen quickly.

She sighed and turned back to her task of peeling potatoes, letting her mind mull over her husband’s words.

* * *

By the time she’d finished peeling the potatoes, Laura had come to the conclusion that despite Clint’s growing anger, she was pretty sure that Nat was okay. She’d snuck a couple peeks into the living room and watched as the two partners took part in some elaborate game that the kids had set up, expressions of mild amusement on both their faces.

Laura was in the middle of seasoning the potatoes when she jumped in surprise at Nat’s voice.

“Laura, I wanted to thank you,” Natasha said, her tone soft but firm. “I know it’s not easy to deal with…it, but you did, and I owe you for that. So thanks,” she finished, her tone decidedly less sure now that she’d stumbled onto the harder part of her little speech.

Laura knew it wasn’t easy for her to talk about it, so she decided to lighten the load instead of protesting that she didn’t  _ owe _ her. “You’re welcome,” she said with a smile. “But you get to do the 3am diaper change for Nathaniel,” she finished with a tease, hoping to release the tension that had somehow ratcheted up a bit again.

Nat let out a genuine chuckle. “I suppose that’s only fair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on Laura's handling of Nat? Or on Nat's coping mechanisms?  
> Overall impressions? Suggestions for future?
> 
> Please let me know. :D


	7. Thought You Preferred Backstabbing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is surprised to see Nat come to his rescue after his fallout with Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We pop in with Tony and Natasha again - this time at a pivotal juncture for the Avengers, these 2 in particular.
> 
> Enjoy.

“Fri? You there?”

No response.

“Fri?” Tony tried again. Part of him knew it was fruitless. The shield had smashed right through the suit and the reactor, and it was beyond any hope of repair outside of his lab.

The sigh he let out was exhaustion, pain, frustration, and desolation all rolled into one. He’d flown to the base with every intention of trying to fix the rift between him and Rogers, at least enough to allow them to battle alongside each other against the imminent threat. But the video had blown a giant hole in those plans, and through that hole had rushed red hot anger as he stared at the man who had killed his parents.

And now, having split the rift even wider - _probably beyond repair,_ he supposed - he lay on the floor of an abandoned Russian base, the wind howling as it whipped snow and ice through the halls, and freezing him to his core. The last vestiges of power in the suit had faded away as he watched them walk away, and without power the suit was useless and too cumbersome to move in. And without access to tools, he was stuck in it.

Left to die by a man the world had once believed to be the moral compass of America. Abandoned by the man his father had so staunchly believed in, and searched for so fervently after they lost him. Betrayed by the man he’d called his friend.

He managed to shuffle up into a sitting position, leaning up against a mostly intact pillar. He shook his head lightly as a bitter expression formed on his face. Of all the ways he’d imagined he might die, hypothermia in Siberia hadn’t made the list.

He was acutely aware of the little-to-no protection against the elements that the damaged suit provided as he began to lose feeling in various body parts. His eyes drooped closed as he began to succumb to the oh-so-inviting darkness of unconsciousness he’d been fighting.

“Tony…”

His eyes opened slowly, and he instantly wondered if he was hallucinating. “Nat?” he mumbled.

“Suit locked?” she asked, eyes sweeping over the darkened and fractured reactor swiftly.

He didn’t answer, but managed to find her gaze. He stared at her, a tidal wave of emotions running through him that he couldn’t parse out. She’d betrayed him.

“Hang on,” she said firmly, eyes dropping from his gaze to look down at the suit once more. She knelt down next to him and flipped open a knife. Where she’d pulled the knife from, he had no clue...but he’d long since given up trying to understand where she hid her weapons. “The release should still function…” she murmured, pushing the knife into the slot next to the broken reactor and angling it around.

“Thought you preferred backstabbing,” he said, watching as she shoved the knife further into the suit’s chest. Distantly he wondered how she knew so much about his suit.

She paused to look up and meet his gaze with an unreadable expression on her face, but then she twisted the knife and the pieces of the suit collapsed off of him.

“What are you doing here?” he pressed.

“I’m always cleaning up after you boys,” she replied, throwing an arm around him and hauling him up to his feet.

His only reply was a grunt as they began to move forward. He wasn’t too badly injured, but the cold had settled into his bones, making it near impossible to walk without her taking most of his weight and guiding him.

“How’d you find me?”

“I’m offended that you just asked that.”

He might’ve laughed, if he wasn’t so damn frozen.

It was slow going, but eventually they made it out to the quinjet she’d flown in on. She set him down on a bunk and began to pull off his wet clothing.

“You oughta take a guy out to dinner first, Red,” he tried to quip as she pulled his pants off. But his mind was dulled by the cold, and it took longer than he thought to deliver the line.

“Shut up, shellhead,” she said, grabbing some spare dry clothes and beginning to dress him.

“What’re you doing here?” he mumbled, feeling the distant edges of warmth begin to reappear as she wrapped a blanket around him, and then another.

“You already asked that,” she reminded him, a worried expression settling onto her face. “Don’t go anywhere,” she instructed before turning on her heel and disappearing down the ramp into the blizzard.

Even if he could, her tone had left no room for argument, and all things considered, he didn’t really think he had it in him to fight another one of his friends today. He blinked tiredly as he tried to comprehend what she was doing. It didn’t make any sense.

She returned a few moments later, arms laden with the pieces of his suit. And the damn shield. _Oh. So that’s what she’d been doing._

“Leave that piece of shit here,” he spat out, mustering as fierce a glare as his weakened body would allow.

“No,” she replied firmly, walking past him and stowing it in one of the containers. Again, her tone was clipped and all business.

He opened his mouth to argue this time, but she stared him down and interrupted him before he could begin. “Drink that when it’s done,” she said, pointing to the hot beverage that was brewing. He couldn’t tell what it was, but didn’t really care. “I’m going to get us up in the air.”

* * *

An hour later he slid into the co-pilot seat, two blankets still wrapped tightly around him. She spared him only a brief side-eyed glance. They sat in silence as he watched the clouds fly by, and pondered what place she held in his life.

Was she still a teammate? She’d fought by his side...and then let them go. Ross would come for her with everything he had, especially given the absence of his real targets.

Was she still a friend? She’d come back for him and saved his life…

His thoughts drifted to his barbed words. _Boy, must be hard to shake the whole double-agent thing, huh? Sticks in the DNA…_ Her expression had shifted to anger, but he’d caught the ever-so-brief glimpse of hurt before her glare had settled on him. Despite how she’d lobbed it back at him, he knew his words had hit their mark. She had a dark past, riddled with deception and dishonesty, and she’d been fighting for _years_ to make amends for it. And he’d driven a sword right into the heart of it with his words.

“Where are we headed?” he asked, feeling uncomfortable with the silence.

“Compound,” she answered succinctly. Her gaze didn’t drift from the sky in front of them.

They fell into silence again, and he felt the real questions he wanted to ask begin to crawl up.

“Nat,” he ventured, his tone taking on a more serious tone than his usual banter, “why’d you come?”

She was quiet, and he wondered if she was going to answer at all. “Damage control,” she said finally.

He frowned. “How’d’you figure?”

She sighed. “I knew you’d go after Steve one way or another. And I knew that the fallout from whatever _conversation_ you might have wasn’t going to be pretty.”

Anger began to bloom in his chest. “So you were protecting him?” he accused.

She nodded and his expression hardened. “But I was protecting you too,” she added.

He shook his head, unable to believe her. “You took his side. You let them go.”

“It’s not about sides, Tony,” she said with another sigh, turning to meet his gaze. “It never was. Yes, I let them go. But I meant what I said - we played this wrong. All of us did. I knew he wasn’t going to stop the same way I knew you’d go after him.”

He blinked and turned his gaze away from hers and out to the cloudy sky as the heaviness of her words settled on him.

“I know you don’t believe me,” she continued, her tone dropping into one of an almost resigned sadness. “But I was trying to protect the team.”

“He tore the team apart,” he replied, tinges of bitterness in his tone. But even as the words left his lips, he knew they were wrong.

“We all tore the team apart,” she corrected gently.

He didn’t quite know what to say to that, so silence filled the quinjet once more.

* * *

The wheels had barely touched the ground and she was already on her way out of the quinjet, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

“Nat,” he said, reaching out to grab her and stop her hasty getaway.

She turned and faced him, an unreadable expression on her face as she locked gazes with him.

“I…” he tried, but found no words. He knew that he owed her a thank you at the very least, and probably an apology too, given that she’d saved his life...but he couldn’t force the words past his lips. Instead he just stared, trying to understand the expression on her face and reconcile her actions with his feelings.

Her gaze narrowed for the briefest of seconds and then she leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Take care of yourself, Tony,” she said, slipping out of his grasp and turning on her heel.

He watched as she walked away, quickly disappearing from his view. He made no move to follow, figuring that if he couldn’t apologize for his accusations, or thank her for saving his life, then the least he could do was let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't pinpoint what it is about this one, but this one flowed really nicely while writing and I really like how it turned out. Immediately after I finished it, I wrote a companion chapter with Steve and Natasha that touches on the same incident. That'll be posted next!
> 
> As always, please let me know your thoughts, feedback, and ideas for future. Comments always bring a smile to my face and motivate me to keep writing.
> 
> Hope you all are well!


	8. You Left Him for Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha finds Steve on the run, they hatch a plan to rescue their friends, and she confronts him about his actions in Siberia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's the companion chapter to the last one where we get to see the 'other' side of the civil war.
> 
> Enjoy!

“You know, after all this time working with me, I’m actually a bit offended by how bad your disguise is.”

Steve couldn’t help but whip around at the familiar, but very unexpected voice. “Nat?”

Natasha tutted out a scolding sound as she shook her head at his not-at-all-subtle reaction. “Did you learn nothing from me these past few years?”

Steve pulled off his sunglasses as he stared. His gaze flicked from her decidedly-not-red hair, to the tiredness in her eyes, and finally to the playful smirk on her lips.

“What are you doing here?”

Her eyebrow arched as she tilted her head and shot him a look that said ‘Really? You’re gonna ask me that?’

“I asked what you’re doing here, not how you got here,” he replied, feigning disappointment in her unspoken accusation. Even after everything it was easy to fall back into their back and forth banter.

She tilted her head the other way as she offered a nonchalant shrug. “Thought you might be thinking about meeting up with some mutual friends.”

Of course she knew what he was planning. “Well I thought I owed them a visit,” he quipped back.

“You and me both,” she agreed quietly.

It was unexpected, but not altogether surprising to him that she’d be there, offering her help to break them out of prison. He knew how close she was with Clint, and her friendships with Sam and Wanda had grown over their time in the Avengers. Even if she’d sided with Tony on the Accords, there was no way she would stand by and let them sit in there.

“What gave it away?” Steve asked after a moment, a sliver of worry forming in his gut as he considered that his discreet inquiries might not be so discreet after all.

“You once went into a Hydra stronghold behind enemy lines, alone, to free captured soldiers. There’s no way you would leave your friends in there.”

Steve’s gaze dropped to the pair of sunglasses held in his hands, as though caught red-handed. They didn’t deserve to be in there. Not when they’d fought because he’d asked them to. Not when they’d fought against their own friends because of their loyalty to him.

“Plus Maria confirmed it,” she added casually, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth again.

Steve shook his head and chuckled in disbelief. “So how do we do this?”

“You’re asking me? And here I thought you were the man with the plan.”

“Nat,” he warned. She was still hiding behind smirks and deflections, and as nice as it was to see her safe and in one piece, he didn’t have time for games.

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding up her hands and protesting her innocence. “You got a place here? I’d rather not have this conversation in a coffee shop.”

He shrugged. “Hotel room.” She grimaced. “It’s safe,” he assured, knowing exactly where her mind had gone.

“It’ll have to do,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Steve said, holding up a hand. Her eyes widened fractionally. “You hungry?”

Nat held his gaze for just a moment as her expression relaxed once more. “Not really, but I should probably eat.”

“Let’s grab some food then.”

She shrugged. “Your show, Rogers.”

He let out a frustrated sigh and she grinned.

* * *

“You want to go over it one more time?”

Steve shook his head. They’d gone over it, and over it, and over it. Neither of them was going to remember any more details than they already knew. Nat had come in with a pretty solid plan, and he’d added bits here and there. All that was left was to execute it, and their timeline dictated they had to wait until the following day for the Raft to be above water anyway.

He believed wholeheartedly that if there were anyone who could pull off this prison break, it was him and Nat...but still he felt the fear tugging at him that they would fail. That he would fail. That the team was broken beyond repair. That his unwavering loyalty to his best friend had been the domino to topple the Avengers.

And then there was Nat. Her appearance had been unexpected, but welcomed. He didn’t understand why she’d chosen to let them go, but he knew that it had come at great cost to her to do so. He knew Ross was aware of her actions - T’Challa had told him as much - and was probably gunning for her. Maybe more for her than for him, even.

“I can hear the gears grinding in your head,” Nat said softly, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. “What’s up?”

Steve paused and held her gaze. Her expression was patient, and kind. She was known for her more aggressive and intense interrogation skills, but she also had an unparalleled understanding of how to get people to talk in more subtle ways. In his case, as their friendship and partnership had grown, she’d become adept at getting him to relax into conversations. She was easy to talk to, and she listened better than anyone he knew.

“You gave up everything for me and Bucky,” he said, his tone unsure but not wavering. It was an unsaid question rolled into a statement.

Nat sighed. “It was my decision to make, Steve. It’s not on you.”

“But you were on the side of the Accords-”

“It’s not about sides, Steve. It never was,” she replied, shaking her head vehemently. “We got played by scared politicians, and we reacted badly. All of us.”

“But why let us go?”

“I was trying to protect the team,” she said, and Steve couldn’t help but notice that her tone had softened and quieted. “You weren’t going to stop, and neither was Tony. I meant what I said in the church, Steve. Staying together was more important than how we stayed together.”

Steve let out a sad sigh. “Things didn’t turn out that way.”

“No,” she replied with a thoughtful expression, “but it doesn’t mean things can’t be fixed. I know a thing or two about broken beyond repair, and this isn’t that.”

His gaze held hers and he was struck by the honesty she was offering. While they had long since moved past the outright deception - recent events notwithstanding - it was rare for her to open up like this. She’d told him once that before Clint and his family wormed their way into her life, she’d never known anything but keeping things impossibly close to her chest.

“T’Challa told Ross what you did…” he said delicately. “He’s after you too, now.”

Nat shrugged. “I’ve had people after me in one way or another my whole life. He’s just another name to add to the list.” Her tone wasn’t bitter or frustrated; it was matter of fact, and that made his heart ache for her.

“Nat…”

“Don’t do that, Steve. It was my choice, and I don’t regret it,” she said firmly. He didn’t respond, and so she pressed on. “You want to tell me what the hell happened in Siberia?”

Steve blew out a breath. That was a can of worms he wasn’t emotionally ready to open. But she’d given up her freedom for him, so the least he could do was give her an answer.

“Steve…” she prompted, and he knew from their years working together that she wasn’t going to let him shrug it off.

“Zemo showed us the video of Bucky- No, the Winter Soldier killing his parents, and Tony saw red.”

Nat’s stare was unwavering. Her silence prompted him to continue.

“He came after Bucky, and I-” he stopped abruptly as he blew out another breath. “He’s my best friend. He remembers me. And it wasn’t him that did it, it was Hydra. I couldn’t let Tony kill him.”

Nat stayed quiet, processing his words. “But you knew it was him. And you didn’t tell Tony.”

Steve looked down. “I didn’t want to hurt him. He shouldn’t have had to go through-”

“That’s a cop out, Steve. You didn’t want to tell him,” she said firmly, interrupting his explanation of his inaction.

Her words stung because of their truth. “I guess so. But Tony was wrong to-”

“Don’t, Steve,” she said, holding up a hand. “You made your choice. You left him for dead in that base.”

“He had his suit-”

“But you killed the reactor, so he had no power, and was in no shape to try and walk in it. If I hadn’t followed you idiots there, he would’ve died of hypothermia.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “You went to-”

“Yes,” she interrupted coolly. “And I don’t regret that either. I wasn’t kidding when I said this wasn’t about sides. You two fought alongside each other for years, and had always managed to put aside your differences of opinion. But this time you both took it too far.”

“I’m sor-”

“I’m not the one who deserves an apology. You can disagree on the Accords, but still be civil with each other. The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place, and at some point some shit is going to go down that’s going to require more than half of our team to fight. We need to be in a position where we can make that happen.”

Steve was stunned and didn’t know what to say.

“Look, I know I’m not innocent in all of this. None of us are. But you and Tony are the leaders of this team, and if you two can’t work this out then the worst case scenario is going to be with much, much bigger stakes. And that might be something that we can’t come back from.”

He let her words sink in and watched as she grabbed a phone and stepped outside onto the balcony to make a call. He knew she was right. But the rift between him and Tony had been blown wide open, and he wasn’t sure how to take a step toward closing it.

They would never agree on the Accords, but Steve knew that Tony was doing what he thought was right...just as he was. And really, there wasn’t much more you could ask of someone. For all his flippant remarks and laissez-faire attitude, Steve knew that Tony, at his core, believed strongly in the Avengers. He poured his heart and soul into them, funding the tech, the equipment, the compound, and the relief efforts that followed in their wake. And he cared about his teammates deeply.

Nat’s voice drifted in on the slight breeze coming in through the crack of the balcony doors, and Steve’s thoughts turned back to her once more. She’d spent time training with him, teaching him new fighting styles, and going over standard SHIELD tactical maneuvers. And she’d contributed many items to his ongoing list of what to get caught up on. He counted her as one of his closest friends, probably the closest outside of Bucky. But she’d lost so much because of this rift between him and Tony.

He’d been surprised by her decision to sign the Accords, especially given her rocky history with controlling governments and agencies in her past. But when she’d explained that staying together was more important than how they stayed together, her motivations fell into place. She’d been trying to keep the family from being torn apart. The only family, outside of the Bartons, that she’d ever really had.

He thought back to her words. She was right. He had to find a way to fix this. He may not agree with Tony on the Accords, but without the Avengers intact, the world was a more dangerous place. And all things considered, she was right to assume that something would come along that required a full team to defend the Earth.

He let out a heavy exhale and rubbed his hands over his face. He had to try to fix this...somehow.

His eyes landed on the spare pieces of paper leftover from the sheets Nat had snagged from the business centre of the hotel for their planning session. There was no way Tony would take a call...but maybe a letter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for writing has been slim as of late, so updates will likely slow down from weekly (as they clearly already have, haha). Definitely not abandoning this or my other story - just need to get some writing in now that I've exhausted my drafts folder!
> 
> As always, please do let me know your thoughts. Did you enjoy Nat calling bullshit on Steve's excuses? Spot the allusions to the team being separated when Thanos ultimately comes around?
> 
> I always love seeing what y'all think. And of course, suggestions for future are always welcomed. You never know when one is going to spark the muse.


	9. 8 out of 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha's decisions during an op leave Melinda frustrated, a little worried, and waiting for the younger agent to wake up in medical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished watching Agents of SHIELD (finally) and just could not leave the idea of Natasha and Melinda interacting at SHIELD alone.
> 
> Enjoy!

Melinda glanced up from her paperwork and found the scene the same as it had been the last time she'd checked. Natasha was still looking very much worse for wear as she laid asleep on the hospital bed, with extensive bruising, more than a few bandaged wounds, and a carefully wrapped ankle. She heard approaching footsteps and glanced up to find a nurse entering the room. She watched as the woman made quick work of her check of the monitors and examination of Natasha's bandages before offering a quiet "everything looks good" to Melinda on her way out of the room.

It was another few hours before Natasha began to stir. The movements were nearly imperceptible, but she could tell that Natasha was assessing the situation, establishing where she was, whether she needed to be wary, and likely trying to piece together how she got there. Melinda chose to indulge her and pretended to continue reviewing her paperwork, but she spotted the exact moment the slight buzz of tension left the redhead's body.

"Ow," Natasha murmured as her eyes opened slowly.

"Yeah, I bet it hurts," Melinda reprimanded in a tone laced with frustration. Getting the report that Natasha had chosen to deviate from the mission plan and allow herself to be captured had caused some serious waves, not to mention leaving Melinda with a pit of worry. She knew the young agent was capable, but the group they were dealing with had absolutely no compunctions about exacting revenge with escalating levels of violence.

Natasha coughed lightly when she tried to reply but made no move to grab the cup of water on the table beside her, so Melinda handed her one of the small bottles of water from her bag. She knew Natasha had not yet been able to bring herself to fully trust the medical staff, and so had remembered to bring along a few sealed bottles of water with her.

"Thanks," the redhead murmured with a nod as she accepted the bottle. She unscrewed the cap and began taking little sips as Melinda gave her a withering look. Nat tilted her head in what Melinda assumed was meant to be an expression of assurance. "It's not that bad. I've had worse-"

"Be thankful Coulson isn't here to hear those words coming out of your mouth," May chided as she closed the folder on her lap and slid it into her bag. The paperwork could wait.

Nat had the decency to at least look a _little_ guilty as she sipped at the water bottle. "What are you doing here?"

Several sarcastic quips flickered in Melinda's mind, but she opted to let them go. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Why are you asking a question you know the answer to?"

"Coulson's still tied up," Nat replied knowingly.

"He's on clean-up duty with Hill," she confirmed with a nod. "And Barton's still on a mission so he's off comms for another few days," she added, pre-emptively answering the question she knew would follow.

"So, you drew the short-straw?"

"Among other things," Melinda replied dryly.

"Such as?"

"Such as having to be the one to ask you -and I'm paraphrasing here- what the hell you were thinking, and whether you realize that your life is not expendable."

"Coulson?" Natasha guessed.

"Fury, actually." She watched as Nat's brow rose ever so slightly and filed her surprise at that reaction away to review later. "Coulson was sputtering too much to get any coherent questions from him. I'm sure he'll draft a sternly worded memo for you on his flight back."

"He's going to make me take time off, isn't he?"

"Only if Barton, Fury, and I don't beat him to it."

Nat rolled her eyes. "I'll be alright. This isn't my first rodeo."

"You'd never have guessed it by your flagrant disregard for SHIELD protocols."

Nat's eyes flashed defensively. "I completed the mission."

"Never said you didn't. But you intentionally put yourself at risk," Melinda replied in an even tone. They were, both of them, known for being even keeled, but Nat even more so. She had a reputation for always being in control, so these flashes of emotion meant that there was something more going on.

Nat's expression was still tight, and Melinda saw her eyes flash again with anger. "I was always going to be able to get out."

"Maybe," Melinda conceded, because Nat _was_ that good. "But you didn't _need_ to go in in the first place. You could have waited. There were going to be opportunities a few hours later."

"It was the quickest way in. The quickest way to get the intel."

Melinda shook her head because the excuses held no water. "The mission wasn't time-sensitive. I should know since I was the one who briefed you on it."

"Cut the shit, Mel," Nat bit back, frustration bubbling up. "You know as well as I do that the intel was going to be helpful to have sooner rather than later."

Melinda just tilted her head slightly, gaze narrowing a touch as she eyed the younger agent. It was one thing to see brief moments of frustration from Natasha, but quite another to see it sustained. She wondered what it was that was setting her off. "Bullshit, Nat. _You_ _know_ as well as I do that the intel isn't even actionable for another few weeks. There was no need to rush your entry."

She read the silence and Nat's stony expression and knew that her words had hit the mark for the redhead. She knew where Nat had come from and what she'd overcome. Fury had given her Nat's file for review when he assigned her to work with the recently defected Russian agent, and the details of the procedures and sessions she'd undergone to rid herself of the triggers and conditioning they'd put in her head were tough to read. She'd overcome all of it though and had adapted successfully to SHIELD's ways. But sometimes it seemed like she slipped up and reverted to her former methods. Sure, it was always in the name of completing a mission, and never resulted in anyone coming to harm except herself, but the fact that she was so eager to take unnecessary risks did make Melinda pause.

She sighed lightly. Maybe it wasn't fair to hold her to such a high standard considering it hadn't been _that long_ in the grand scheme of things since she'd defected. "Look, I know how we do things here isn't the same as-"

"I know SHIELD is different," Nat bit back harshly.

 _There's that defensiveness again_ , Melinda noted silently. Nat had often been quick to point out that she knew she was at SHIELD and that things were different. Melinda supposed it had something to do with her loyalty and abilities being constantly questioned. She understood the latter quite well from personal experience. "I'm just saying, you did things with an at-any-cost mentality for many years, and I know it isn't as simple as flipping a switch to acclimate to SHIELD protocols."

Nat's expression hardened. "I know the protocols."

"You forget that I had access to your training assessments. I _know_ you know them."

"You're a real ray of sunshine, you know that Mel?" Nat quipped darkly. But Melinda knew that tone too well to put any stock in it. She knew that under the arrogance and masks was someone that respected her, and the words were nothing more than a poor attempt at misdirection.

"You pull a stunt like that when I'm overseeing your op and this _sunshine_ is what you're going to get."

Nat just glared as tension bled into the air. Melinda remained unflappable though.

"I know you're capable, Nat. More capable than most agents here. And I know you know SHIELD protocols. So why the hell did you go in like that?" she pressed.

This was about way more than her 'forgetting' protocols, and unless it was addressed, the problem would only get worse. She had theories but needed more information before she could make a determination.

Nat stayed silent. Melinda knew she wasn't used to being called out on her bullshit by anyone other than Fury, Coulson, or Barton, and guessed that Nat was weighing her options.

Melinda didn't afford the younger agent any time to do so though. "Explain to me why you let them capture you. Why you deemed it necessary to let them torture you for hours before you broke out. And why you chose to take the riskier option when there was a perfectly good, safer alternative."

"I'm not-" Nat cut herself off as she searched for words. "I don't-" Her frustration with her own inability to articulate her reasons was clear to see and Melinda felt a bit of sympathy for her. Still, she was making progress and couldn't let the opportunity go.

"What is it, Nat? Because this isn't a one-off. The way you've been operating lately, it's like you don't care if you live."

"I'm not suicidal."

"That's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that you're tempting fate. Maybe it's guilt, maybe it's an eagerness to make up for your past, maybe it's to shut up all the people who doubt you. I don't know. But you need to recognize that what's in the past, is in the past."

"I know that," she insisted.

"Good. Then how about acting like you do."

"I'm starting to see why you and Coulson spend so much time together. Birds of a feather and all that."

Melinda eyed Nat carefully, ignoring the dodge. "You understand that people here care about you, right? I know you know Barton cares, and probably that Coulson does too. But other people care too, Nat. **I** care. Hill cares. Hell, even Fury cares."

"I know," she replied, voice a little quieter than usual, but still firm.

"Then don't push us away. Let us help."

"That's not easy for me," she admitted. Melinda heard a tone that sounded like the words were practically forced from her, and she recognized the effort Nat was putting in, despite her weak efforts at redirection.

Melinda leaned forward in her chair. "I didn't say it was going to be. But you're a part of SHIELD now and that means working in tandem with others, trusting them to have your back, and letting us help you deal with whatever it is you're going through."

"Let me guess. I'm not alone?"

"Coulson's not the only one who can do speeches," Melinda quipped, offering a small smile as she leaned back in her chair.

"7 out of 10."

Melinda arched an eyebrow. "Tough critic."

Nat gave a half smile and Melinda couldn't help but think she meant it. "Coulson usually goes for the supportive squeeze of a hand or shoulder."

"You know I don't do that crap."

Nat laughed. "Yeah, me neither. But it does add something to the speech, I'll give him that."

Melinda thought of the pep talks he's offered her in the past and nodded in agreement.

"And he's not usually so intense."

"He's not usually berating you for allowing yourself to be subjected to torture unnecessarily," Melinda pointed out.

Nat pursed her lips. "Fair enough. 8 out of 10 then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some thoughts? Feelings? Suggestions? I'd love to hear 'em!
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone leaving comments and kudos - they are appreciated and always bring a smile to my face.
> 
> Hope everyone's staying safe.


	10. Seems Like You're Over-Qualified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha steps in as Steve's trainer to get him up to speed on more modern combat training, and they spend a bit of time getting to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those who've read my other story, Moments, may remember a reference in Bucky's chapter about Natasha absolutely embarrassing Steve the first time they sparred. This is that moment! ;)
> 
> enjoy.

“Captain.”

Steve paused his workout on the punching bag and let his arms fall to his sides at the familiar voice. “Director,” he replied without turning around. “Don’t tell me there’s another situation already.”

“There’s always another situation, Cap. That’s the thing with the world now.”

“Thought you were all about being proactive,” Steve said, unable to keep the accusation out of his tone as his thoughts turned to the weapons SHIELD had begun to develop from the tesseract.

Fury doesn’t bristle, and Steve isn’t surprised. The man seemed to be unflappable, even in the face of direct confrontation. “We try to be. I know you’re not pleased with some of my decisions, and that’s your right. But everything I’ve done is in service of trying to keep people safe.”

Steve lets that hang in the air for a moment before he turns around. “So, what’s the situation?”

“No crisis. Just thought you’d want to know how the recovery operation in New York is going,” Fury said, stepping forward to hand him what he’d learned was called a tablet. Steve took it and glanced down at a photo of workers recovering some alien technology. The clarity in the picture was astounding, let alone the fact that it was displayed on such a small device that clearly had more capability than just showing photos. “You can swipe to see more,” Fury instructed after a moment.

Steve frowned. “Swipe?”

“Yeah,” Fury said, reaching over to swipe his finger across the screen. Steve blinked in surprise when another photo appeared.

“Oh,” Steve replied, feeling once again just a touch overwhelmed with the world. He dragged his finger across the screen like Fury had done to see the next photo and then repeated it several more times. “What’s the cost of the total damage to the city?”

“The number wouldn’t mean anything to you.”

“Try me,” he presses.

“Best guess? Upwards of 50 billion. Probably much more as we locate and assess other damage.”

Steve blinked. He _definitely_ hadn’t figured the number to be that high. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“That’s why I’m here, actually. Not sure what your plans are, but I wasn’t just being polite when we talked after you first woke up. The world can still use Captain America, and there’s a place at SHIELD for you if you want it.”

“Why would I want to work with SHIELD?” he asked.

If Fury was offended by the question, he didn’t show it. “Because we’re the ones fighting the battles that others can’t. We’re the ones keeping the lid on the things that the public doesn’t and shouldn’t know about.”

“And you need me for that?” Steve asked, doubting whether a man who ran a high-level intelligence organization really had a need for a soldier like him. He supposed it was more about ensuring he wouldn’t get in the way.

“No,” Fury admitted, and Steve was a little struck by his honesty. “But we’d be stupid not to ask. You have a skillset we can use, Rogers.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t. Trust is earned. But remember that I was the one arguing against the World Council’s decision to launch that nuke on Manhattan.”

Steve considered it. He did have a point. And it’s not like he had a concrete plan of what he was going to do next. “Let me think about it,” he said.

* * *

“Good, that was good.”

Steve grimaced at the patronizing remark. “It was terrible,” he argued.

“No, no,” his instructor placated, “it wasn’t that bad.”

Steve couldn’t help the exhale of frustration he let out. The instructor assigned by Fury was a fan of Captain America, and apparently that translated to him being able to do no wrong, even if he was terrible at the new fighting techniques the man was trying to teach him.

“Sherbrooke. You’re dismissed.”

They both turned toward the source of the voice, finding Deputy Director Hill in the doorway to the training room.

“Ma’am? I’m under orders from Direc-”

“I know what your orders are, Sherbrooke. You’ve been reassigned. Report to Agent Riley this afternoon at two. There’s a new batch of trainees in need of some instruction.”

Steve turned to see the reaction of his apparently now former trainer. He looked frustrated and a bit dejected too. He held out a hand to shake and mumbled an “It’s been an honour, sir” before he grabbed his bag and headed for the door.

“Ma’am,” Steve said politely with a nod as she came closer, passing by Sherbrooke on her way into the training room.

“Director Fury asked me to oversee your training. I’m sorry to say that when he brought you in, our top instructors were otherwise engaged. Sherbrooke’s a good instructor, but he’s better suited for teaching the trainees.”

Steve wasn’t entirely sure what to say, so he remained quiet, waiting for Hill to continue.

“Instead of another instructor, we’ve assigned an agent to train you. She’s going to bring you up to speed on hand to hand combat, tactical maneuvers, protocols, weapons, and anything else she deems necessary.”

Steve nodded. “Yes, ma’am. When do I start?”

“Right now.”

He spun around at the new voice, finding none other than Agent Romanoff standing in front of him. There was clear amusement dancing in her eyes as she held his surprised gaze. He hadn’t heard her come in or approach him, but something told him that shouldn’t be a surprise to him.

“Ma’am,” he said politely with a small nod.

“Romanoff is fine,” she replied, holding up a hand. “Save the ma’ams for Hill.”

“Watch it, Romanoff,” Hill warned, “or I’ll see to it some more paperwork makes its way to your desk.”

“That’s just mean, Hill,” Romanoff retorted as she tilted her head and shot an unimpressed look to the Deputy Director. It was clear to Steve that they had a good relationship and the threats and jabs were only playful.

“Perks of the chain of command,” she retorted dryly. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said before turning to face Steve, uttering a “Captain” with a nod, and then walking toward the door.

He turned to face Agent Romanoff. “Good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” she replied with a nod.

“How’s Agent Barton?” he asked. He didn’t know the man well, but he knew it couldn’t be easy to recover from being brainwashed.

“Recovering,” she answered vaguely before redirecting the conversation swiftly. “I watched your last two sessions with Sherbrooke. They were terrible.”

He grimaced. “Guess I’m not the best student.”

She rolled her eyes. “Quit being polite. He was too busy not wanting to offend Captain America to actually teach you anything useful. He’s a good instructor for the trainees, but he was clearly star-struck.” He smiled guiltily at her accurate assessment. “Lucky for you, I don’t have that problem.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

She grinned and Steve couldn’t help but think it was maybe just a touch devious. Like she was looking forward to embarrassing him, the revered Captain America. He watched as she removed her shoes and stepped closer to him. “Attack me.”

He frowned immediately. “What?”

“Attack me,” she repeated, waving one hand toward herself in an invitation.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He knew there were women who could hold their own - Peggy was a prime example - but he also knew he was much bigger and much stronger than her and it was likely only a matter of time until he hurt her.

She rolled her eyes again. “God, Rogers,” she said, exasperated. “You watched me take on _aliens_ in New York, and you know I took down Barton on the helicarrier. Don’t worry about me, I can handle myself. Now, attack me.”

He let out an exhale in a sign of his reluctance. He assumed a fighting stance and took a couple steps toward her to close the distance between them hesitantly. He eyed her stance carefully and lunged for her left side when he saw her shift her weight.

Before he could even get close to hitting her, he found himself on the ground, staring up at her. It was a complete blur, and he honestly couldn’t have told anyone what had happened. He’d known she was an accomplished fighter, having seen her take down dozens of the aliens with swift and agile movement, but he hadn’t realized she was _that_ accomplished.

She grinned. “Not going to lie, I expected more, Captain.” She held out a hand to help him up. “Ready to go for real, yet?” she asked as he reached his feet.

He ground his teeth and moved forward to attack again, this time much quicker. But again, before he could get close, he found himself on the mat, this time face down. And he _still_ wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed it.

Clearly he had underestimated her, but he’d always been a quick learner in the right conditions, and this time when he moved to attack, he avoided her sweeping leg that had taken him down before. She easily dodged his punch, and before he realized what was happening, she’d somehow taken him down. _Again._

“Better,” she assessed, holding out a hand to help him up. “Let’s go again.”

“You really think this is the best way for me to learn?” he asked, a bit frustrated. It had been a long time since he’d been at a complete loss in the physical sense of things and he found the familiar feeling uncomfortable.

She shrugged. “Experience is the best teacher, and I need to assess what I’m working with. Stop stalling, let’s go.”

He moved to attack, but this time he opted to throw in a feint before he punched forward. She’d read his move easily though, and deftly sidestepped his attack before vaulting up onto his shoulders and twisting her legs to bring him down.

Steve exhaled harshly as he shoved her legs off him and pushed himself back up onto his feet.

She was already up on her feet, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other in a rhythm. She threw him a grin that was cocky. “C’mon, Rogers. Show me some of that famous Captain America brawling I’ve heard so much about. Or can you only do that with a shield?”

“That’s not helping,” he said, rotating his arms a couple times to loosen the muscles.

“I’d say it is,” she argued, that slightly devious smile still ever present.

He feinted a move forward and waited for her to react before he moved forward for real. He emphasized a right hook attack while jabbing his left forward at the same time, finally managing to hit her body. He heard her let out an involuntary exhale and started to stand up, but she pressed on and he once again found himself on his back staring up at her.

“Now you’re just offending me, Rogers.”

He frowned. “How exactly am I offending you?”

“I’m not made of glass, and I’d appreciate it if you stopped acting like I’m inferior just because I’m smaller than you. Or are you just misogynistic?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he explained.

“I’m a big girl, I can take it. Now, last chance or I walk and tell Hill and Fury to find someone else. And believe me, there’s no one here who can teach you more than I can.”

He eyed her appraisingly, finding nothing but truth in her gaze. He’s a little shocked to find that she appears to be genuinely angry that he’s actively trying not to hurt her, but then he remembered Peggy sympathizing with him about always being second-guessed and passed over. It hurt to be dismissed out of hand because of what people saw.

“You sure about this?” he asked, still reluctant to go full tilt.

Her expression shifted and a less devious and more playful smile played on her lips. “Yeah. It’ll be fun.”

He mirrored the smile at her call back to her words before launching into the air and grabbing hold of the flying alien vehicle. He’d been in awe of her then, and he realized at that moment what a hypocrite he’d been. She wasn’t some delicate girl. She was a hardened and accomplished agent. She deserved his respect. His _full_ respect.

He moved his neck from side to side before assuming the fighting stance again. She shot him a cocky grin again and waved her fingers at him, inviting the challenge.

He paused for just a moment before he flew into action. He amended his previous strategy and was pleased when he managed to find a bit of success. His fist made contact with her side hard, and he couldn’t help the wince that spread on his face at the feel of her recoiling. But he shook it off quickly, knowing she’d be coming for him in retaliation. He blocked her first and second attacks but was overwhelmed by her third. As they were both falling to the ground he tried to twist out of her grasp but was surprised by her strength that didn’t allow him.

“Finally,” she said, holding a hand out to help him up, “something I can work with.”

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately. He’d hit her _hard._ Not full strength, but pretty close.

She waved him off. “I’m fine.” He eyed her doubtfully. “Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

That proved to be a turning point for him, and she began to actually teach him some new techniques. He quickly realized that she hadn’t been boasting when she told him no one else could teach him as much as her. She seemed to have an endless knowledge of different fighting techniques, and he wondered just _how_ she’d learned so many different disciplines because she didn’t look much older than him, years in the ice notwithstanding. And she was an excellent teacher. Not only because of her vast knowledge, but also because she seemed to have an intuitive understanding of when he had fully grasped a concept and when he needed further instruction. She also proved to have a good sense of humour, enjoying goading him with some banter, and while he didn’t yet feel comfortable volleying it back to her, he thought that maybe one day he might be.

They worked out for another few hours before she called a halt. “You got plans for dinner?”

He shrugged. “Might grab some food from the diner around the corner from my place.”

She shook her head immediately. “C’mon, let me take you for some real food. You liked the shawarma, right?”

He nodded, remembering the flavourful meal he’d enjoyed after the long and hard battle in New York. He’d been exhausted and the thought of chewing had seemed like an unnecessary mountain to climb, but the meal had been worth it - it’d been the most flavourful dish he’d ever had.

“Then I know just the place. Get cleaned up and meet me back here in 30 minutes. We’ll take my car.”

* * *

An hour later they arrived at a favourite restaurant of Natasha’s, which she claimed had the best Greek food in the city. Steve had been surprised to find the owner incredibly happy to see her, and even more surprised when they were personally ushered by him to a private dining area at the back of the restaurant. His curiosity must have been obvious in his expression because once they were seated she smiled and began to explain the special treatment.

“A few years back I came here not long before closing to grab some food after a mission. Some street thugs thought it would be a good idea to try and rob the place. I disagreed.” Steve chuckled lightly at her droll description. “Nik was overly appreciative and promised me free food and discreet service whenever I came around. That the food is so great is a nice bonus.”

“You come here often?”

“Not as often as I’d like.”

“Fury keeps you busy?”

“You could say that, yeah,” she answered offhandedly as her eyes scanned the pages of the menu quickly. Steve looked down to find mostly Greek words, with a bit of English here and there. Thankfully, she seemed to sense his predicament. “Anything you _don’t_ like?”

He shrugged. “I’m not really picky.”

She nodded in understanding, and he got the sense that she understood his answer for what it really was - an admission that he didn’t really know any of the food on the menu. He was starting to understand that she was _very good_ at reading people and wondered how much of an open book he was to her.

“If it’s okay with you, I can just order a variety of stuff for us.”

He smiled appreciatively, knowing it would save him from blindly guessing at what to order. “Fine with me.”

The owner himself appeared shortly after to take their order and she rattled off a long list of dishes in what appeared to be fluent Greek. Steve was initially surprised by her fluency in the other language but realized quickly it made a lot of sense for a spy to know multiple languages. He knew some French and German from exposure to it during the war, but that was about it. He made a mental note to see about brushing up on that French.

“Hope you’re hungry,” she quipped once the owner had disappeared to put in their order. “That definitely wasn’t my regular order, and I’m pretty sure Nik thinks I’m crazy for ordering that much food for two people.”

“Don’t worry, I brought my appetite,” Steve confirmed with a smile, wondering if she knew his metabolism required far more food than the average guy. Judging by the amount of food she ordered, he supposed she did.

“Good. Otherwise I’m going to look like an idiot with all this food.”

He grinned at the joke and found himself happy to be spending some time with her. He’d gotten to know all the Howling Commandos so well that they were able to function as a well-oiled machine, jumping into combat situations seamlessly as a unit. But the people he’d fought alongside in New York, who he assumed Fury wanted to be ready to be called on for another threat of that level, he knew next to nothing about. And that didn’t sit right with him. Even if he wasn’t going to be fighting alongside them in the same way as he had with the Howling Commandos, it seemed like a good idea to at least get to know the people he might be suiting up beside again at some point.

“So, how are you adapting to the world? I can’t imagine it’s easy being told nearly 70 years had passed,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.

“No,” he agreed, “definitely not. But I’m learning.”

“A lot’s changed.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“SHIELD give you resources for a crash course in current American culture?”

He nodded, noticing that she seemed to speak from experience on the matter. “Yeah, it’s been helpful, but it’s…”

“A bit overwhelming?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out with a bashful smile.

She smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it.”

“I sure hope so,” he replied.

Again, to him it sounded like she was speaking from a place of personal experience and he wondered why she might’ve needed to have had a crash course in American culture. He contemplated asking her just that, but before he could say anything the owner of the restaurant reappeared with some plates of food. It was then that he became painfully aware of just how hungry he really was once the scents hit him.

“What is all this?” he asked, gaze drifting over the different plates filled with food he’d never seen before.

“Fried zucchini, hummus, fried cheese,” she began listing off as she pointed to each, “a pastry with spinach and cheese filling, pita bread, fried meatballs, and these are two different dips.” His eyes widened at all the choices. “And this is just the appetizers.”

“This looks amazing,” he said honestly, a little overwhelmed by the tantalizing aromas and vibrant colours.

She smiled at his earnest words. “Hope you like it.”

He nodded and let her start before he began to load a sampling of things onto his plate. “So, do you mostly work solo missions?” he asked. “Or are you and Barton paired up?”

“Depends on the situation. Sometimes I work in a part of a Strike team along with Barton and a few others, and sometimes I’m working solo on deep undercover missions.”

“That’s gotta be hard, being away from your family and friends.”

“Don’t have much in the way of family. Most SHIELD agents at my clearance level don’t, actually. Just makes things easier.”

He blinked as he processed her answer. It made sense, but was a bit disheartening to hear, especially in a tone so casual. Then again, he had no family or friends left either, so...

“How long have you worked for SHIELD?”

“Long enough to be qualified to get assigned to train you,” she teased, glancing up only briefly from her task of spooning some hummus onto her plate. She stabbed a fork into one of the pastries and took a bite before sliding it onto her plate as well. “Oh, make sure to get one of these. Definitely up there with the best I’ve had.”

“What do you mean ‘up there with the best’, hmm? You eat at other Greek restaurants?”

Natasha laughed as Nik appeared at the table, more plates of food stacked impressively in his hands and on his forearms. “Only when I’m in Greece, Nik. You know I would never step out on you.”

“Good,” he said, sliding the plates filled with meat and vegetables onto the table. “I was worried. I didn’t see you for months.”

“Work,” she explained apologetically.

“You work too much!”

“Says the man who I’m pretty sure has a pillow hidden somewhere in the kitchen here.”

Nik laughed heartily, and Steve could tell there was a genuine fondness between the two of them. He wondered exactly how long ago they had met.

“Let me get you some wine,” Nik said, snapping his fingers toward one of the waiters who had followed him into the room. His gaze slid over to Steve, “or some beer?”

“Couple of beers sounds good, Nik,” Natasha answered for them both. “Thanks.”

“She must like you,” Nik said after gesturing to his waiter to bring the beers. “She doesn’t bring _anyone_ here with her. You’re someone special, hmm?”

“Just a colleague,” Steve explained with a shake of his head and a smile. His gaze met Natasha’s and he found her looking at him with amusement in her eyes again.

“He’s never had Greek food before,” she added.

Nik’s eyes widen. “Never?”

Steve shook his head. “Nope.”

“What have you been eating instead? Sushi? Burgers?”

“Nothing this delicious,” Steve replied easily with a smile. It wasn’t a lie. The food _was_ delicious. The waiter appeared and put their beers down on the table.

“You did a good thing bringing him here,” Nik said, his gaze drifting back to Natasha.

She laughed. “I thought so.”

“If you need anything, let me know,” he instructed seriously. “ _Anything_ , okay?”

* * *

The plates had continued to flow out of the kitchen to their table for the better part of an hour. Steve quickly realized that Natasha hadn’t been joking when she said they would’ve thought her crazy to order that much food. It was probably enough food to feed a small family. For his part, Steve _devoured_ the food. He’d been living mostly off the diner food from the place around the corner from his apartment and SHIELD cafeteria food, so the hearty Greek meal was a welcomed change.

Conversation between them had slowed while they ate, but it hadn’t stopped altogether. She regaled him with tales of her and Barton on missions, and he told her stories of the operations the Howling Commandos had undertaken. But it wasn’t until dessert appeared on the table that Steve managed to ask the question that had been on his mind all day.

“Why’d you agree to train me?”

She held his gaze for a moment, no doubt searching for something in his expression. “Well, to be honest Fury didn’t exactly ask. It was a very _pointed_ suggestion.” His eyebrows rose in surprise and then dropped into a frown and she waved off his worry quickly. “Don’t sweat it, Rogers. I’m seriously behind on my paperwork anyway. Pretty sure Hill is _this close_ to taking out a hit on me,” she joked.

“Are you sure? I’m grateful, of course, but it does seem like you’re overqualified.”

She laughed. “Thanks for that. Nice little stroke to my ego.”

He couldn’t help the slight blush. “Well, you did take me down several times today pretty easily.”

“Only because you’re too polite. Times have changed, Rogers. Sometimes the bad guy’s a little lady who looks like she wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“How was everything?” Nik asked, appearing just as Steve finished off the last of his plate.

“Amazing,” Steve answered honestly. He would _definitely_ be having Greek food again. Hopefully soon.

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it. We had some leftovers in the kitchen, so I put together a bag for you to take home,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

Nik waved off Steve’s protest. “Any friend of hers is a friend of mine. And besides, we can’t have you go back to eating just burgers!”

Steve smiled appreciatively and took the _large_ bag he was handed. Apparently he’d be eating Greek food again sooner rather than later. “Thank you. Really, I appreciate this.”

“Of course, of course. We’re all closed up front, but please take your time. I’m going to be around cleaning up so I can close back here whenever you’re done.”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly when he glanced at his watch. He hadn’t realized how late it was.

“We’ll get out of your way, Nik,” Natasha said, rising to her feet. Steve followed suit immediately, setting down the bag of food on the table as he reached for his wallet. “Your wife will have your head if you’re late.”

“She won’t mind. She’s going to be sad she missed seeing you.”

“Next time,” Natasha promised with a smile, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to each of Nik’s cheeks. “Now, how much do I owe you?”

“No, no,” Nik said, backing up and holding up his hands. Steve’s eyes widened a touch as he froze with his wallet in his hands. He’d thought Natasha had been kidding about getting free food. “No charge. You know that.”

“You’re sure?” Natasha said, holding her own wallet open in front of her. “I could charge it to the company card,” she added, her eyes twinkling with mischief when her gaze met Steve’s.

“No,” Nik repeated firmly, his gaze unwavering. Natasha tilted her head in a challenge and Nik responded in fast Greek that Steve took to be a reaffirmation that they were _absolutely not_ paying for the meal.

“Fine,” Natasha relented reluctantly with a sigh. “I wish you’d let me pay you one of these times.”

Nik pretended not to hear her and instead walked them to the door. “Not so long until next time, okay?” he said.

Natasha nodded. “I’ll see you soon, Nik.”

“Thanks again for dinner,” Steve said, holding out a hand. Nik smiled widely, grasped the proffered hand tightly and shook it as he said something in Greek.

“He said he hopes to see you again soon,” Natasha translated.

* * *

“I thought you were kidding about the free food,” Steve said as they walked back to her car.

“He never lets me pay. I’ve been trying to for years.”

“I feel bad, that was a lot of food.”

“Believe me, nothing you said would have convinced him. Besides, I slipped $300 into his pocket when he hugged me.”

Steve blinked in shock but recovered quickly. “He’s gonna be angry next time you go, isn’t he?”

She smiled. “Maybe. He doesn’t always remember to chastise me.”

“You do that every time you eat there?” he asked, getting the impression that she absolutely did. And probably left healthy tips too.

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s a family business, and I know every penny counts for them.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“Don’t spread it around, Rogers, but I’m not as heartless as they make me out to be.”

He stopped walking and turned to face her, thinking of her actions in New York to save civilians, her efforts to teach him, and taking him out to dinner. “I don’t think you’re heartless. Not by a long shot.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, again searching for something that he wasn’t privy to. She seemed to find whatever it was she was looking for though, as she nodded and they continued walking.

“You’re not going to let me pay you back either, are you?” he asked, breaking the silence after a few moments.

She laughed. “Not this time. Next one’s on you, though. Maybe I’ll take you out for sushi then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this actually all came from one line that popped into my head about how 'sometimes the bad guy's a little old lady who looks like she wouldn't hurt a fly' and grew from there.
> 
> I'd love to hear any thoughts you have on this, or any suggestions for future conversations to tackle. Your feedback and support is always appreciated! :)


	11. Seems Like a Raw Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony catches up with Natasha after the fall of SHIELD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I re-watched the Winter Soldier not that long ago and this idea bit me and just wouldn't let go. Plus, it's always fun to write Tony's signature snarky quips. I really enjoyed trying to have a familiar relationship between these two while still keeping them both a bit cautious because they don't know each other all that well.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Happy, you seeing this?" Tony asked, not bothering to look away from his phone.

"Seeing what?"

"This," Tony replied, holding up his phone and wiggling it.

"The news?" Happy guessed without breaking his focus on the road as he navigated through busy traffic.

"What's _on_ the news, Happy," Tony clarified as he sat forward and leaned on the partition. He glanced over at the passenger seat and frowned before looking back at Happy. "God, what is that?"

Happy glanced over his shoulder momentarily. "What's what?"

"That piece of tech that walked with dinosaurs," Tony replied as he jabbed his finger toward the laptop in Happy's bag. "What is it?"

"It's my computer."

"No, it's definitely not. I know the forehead of security struggled to get the hang of it, but I know I definitely gave you a tablet."

"I prefer a laptop."

"Who even uses laptops anymore? Come into the 21st century, Happy. Touch screens, holo screens, and voice commands"

"This is from the 21st century."

"All of my blood, sweat, and tears put in this technology," he said dramatically, jabbing his finger at his phone, "and you buy somethin _g_ _off the shelf_."

"Just easier for me to-"

"To fund my distant competitors. Yeah, I got that," he said, sitting back again.

Happy rolled his eyes. "You need something?"

"Yeah," Tony answered, once again distracted. His eyes were glued to the screen of his phone again, watching his one-time teammate, former PA, and triple imposter extraordinaire tell the US government to essentially kiss her ass. A toothy grin spread across his face as she practically eviscerated the committee members in her responses, all with a polite expression. It was a talent he seriously wished he possessed. He never grew tired of watching Pepper employ the same skill in board meetings, belittling the stuffy suits without breaking a sweat. Natasha was on a whole other level though. Not that he doubted her skill in, well... anything, considering what he'd seen her do first-hand.

"Tony?" Happy prompted.

"Yeah," he said while glancing up. "We need to pick up a spider."

Happy frowned. "What?"

"A spid- Did you not listen to any of that?" he asked, gesturing to his phone. "Come on, Happy. I know it's been awhile since you drove me around since you left me for your promotion but come on!"

"I try very hard not to overhear your conversations. It makes for less stress in my life."

"Well, yeah, 'cause who wants a head of security that knows what's going on?"

Happy glared into the rear-view mirror. "We're picking up Agent Romanoff?"

"We're picking up your favourite boxer," Tony corrected with a grin.

"I slipped," Happy defended tiredly.

"Sure ya did. Let's swing by and sit out front 'til she's done."

"Media's gonna notice a car idling out front, boss."

He waved the concern off. "Let them speculate and take photos of a car. Wouldn't be the worst press I've ever gotten."

"Pepper specifically asked you to finish the-"

"Designs on the new phone and security stuff, I know. I'm multi-tasking."

"Multi-tasking?"

Tony tapped his head. "It's brewing up here."

"While you watch the hearing?"

"Ha!" Tony exclaimed, pointing a finger at Happy accusingly. "I knew you were listening!"

"Everyone in the country knows she's got the hearing today."

"Caught you red-handed," he continued, ignoring Happy's explanation.

"They've been promoting their coverage for days."

"I should dock your pay for eavesdropping-"

"Pepper controls my salary."

"-maybe even a demotion-"

"You don't have that authority anymore."

"-or reassignment. I hear the front desk needs a security guard for the night shift-"

"I'm the one who does the shift assignments and hiring for security."

"Hey, you want a coffee? I think I need some caffeine," Tony said, abruptly changing the topic as the hearing reached a small lull due to some bureaucratic formality nonsense, which he had no desire to listen to.

"We're making a stop?"

"Yeah, let's swing by, uh, what's that place I like?"

"Starbucks?"

Tony stared at the rear-view mirror in mock horror. "I'm gonna call Pepper right now and have you fired."

"King's?" Happy amended.

Tony shook his head. "J, what's the coffee place I like here in this god forsaken government town?"

JARVIS piped up obediently. "I have records for a number of-"

"Give me the top of the charts."

"Coffee Café is your top visited location for coffee."

"Coffee Café?" Tony repeated dumbfounded. "That's actually the name?"

"Yes, sir."

"I go to a place called Coffee Café?"

"Well, not directly. The coffee is picked up for you by-"

"Do you think they knew their name meant coffee coffee when they came up with it?"

"Perhaps they have a sense of humour, sir."

"Well let's hope so. The alternative isn't great for them."

"Shall I call ahead to place your order?"

"Great idea. Happy, you want something?"

"Just a coffee with sugar."

"You heard the man, J."

"I presume you'd like your usual?"

"That's why it's my usual."

"Shall I get Ms. Romanoff something?"

"Aw, you got a crush, JARVIS?"

"I merely suggest that after the hearing she may appreciate it."

"You know what she likes?"

"I have records of receipts for coffee that she submitted while serving as your PA."

"She was undercover then. How do you know the coffee order wasn't a part of that?"

"I'm open to suggestions," JARVIS replied, the irreverence clear in his tone.

"It's fine. But if it's wrong, I'm throwing you under the bus."

"I shall await my fate with bated breath."

"Go away now."

"Yes, sir."

Tony's attention was drawn back to his phone screen as the committee began another line of asinine questioning. He spotted the tiniest twitch of Natasha's lips and knew she was about to go in for the kill. "Oh! She's totally gonna make them cry. This is great. Happy, you gotta listen to this."

Happy just rolled his eyes and hit the button to raise the partition again.

* * *

By the time they'd gotten there every major media outlet in the US and more than a few international ones were camped out front of the building. His car's arrival did not go unnoticed, but for once they seemed more interested in someone else, so he was spared the direct focus of the reporters. He watched the live feed of the hearing while skimming through some of the data that Natasha had released to the world. He'd known SHIELD had a lot of dirty laundry, but he hadn't known there was _that_ much. By the time he got to the Avengers related info, he knew Natasha must have done some editing before she released it because there was a lot less than he'd seen the last time he'd hacked SHIELD. Not that he'd read much of it then though, since Pepper had interrupted him with much more _interesting_ plans for the evening.

There was some information about himself from over the years, mostly how his weapons and tech impacted world events. He didn't see her assessment of his suitability for the Avengers though, so maybe she'd done some editing on his behalf. _Huh...interesting._

He found a few notes on Banner that mostly consisted of prior locations where they'd had surveillance set up to watch him, and some details on the Harlem incident, but nothing beyond the basics and nothing that wasn't already out there. Thor's files were severely limited, but then again no one seemed to know all that much about him so that wasn't terribly surprising. Cap's file was predictably larger, but still missing key things he'd assumed would be in there. Barton's files were large enough but lacking key details like his actual name. Evidently Red had opted to protect him by removing his HR details and leaving only his codename. _Very interesting…_

"Huh," he murmured as he flicked through the files to find the ones about Natasha. It looked like she hadn't done much, if anything to edit her own file, though many of the details from her younger years seemed to be vague. _How befitting of a spy_ , he mused. He only skimmed the info, not wanting to pry into what she had kept close to the vest. After all, he knew a little about wanting privacy. But what was there from the years leading up to her SHIELD days wasn't pretty and hadn't been in the files Coulson had given him before everything with Loki had happened. It was no wonder they hauled her in for a hearing. _Damn, Natalie. Talk about taking one for the team..._

His attention was drawn back to the hearing as he heard one of the committee members begin to threaten Natasha. "Dumb move, asshole," Tony murmured. Even he, as narcissistic and combative as he was, knew not to cross the Black Widow.

He listened to Natasha refute him with a verbal slap Pepper would've been proud of, and then grinned widely when she finished with a challenge to arrest her if they wanted, knowing full well they would do no such thing. He barked out a laugh at the audacity of it and felt a surge of pride. Who knew he wasn't the only shit disturber in their group?

Suddenly the horde of cameras and reporters outside the building began to buzz and Tony watched as Natasha strode confidently out of the building. She spotted the car quickly and changed course just as swiftly to head toward it. _Clearly she knows who it is,_ he realized, knowing she'd never get into an unknown car. How she knew though, he had no idea.

"Want me to get out and push 'em back, boss?" Happy asked as he eyed the group of reporters that was rapidly approaching the car as Natasha made her way to it.

"Nah, Natalie's got it."

"Lucky you were in the area today, huh?" Happy quipped.

"Yeah," Tony replied, looking away from his friend's knowing gaze and fixing his eyes instead on Natasha's approaching figure. When she got close enough, Tony pushed open the door. "Need a ride?" he asked with a grin, squinting against the barrage of flashes from the cameras despite his sunglasses.

She tilted her head ever so slightly before a small smile crept across her lips. She stepped gracefully into the car as Tony slid over to the other seat and then pulled the door shut. He was instantly grateful for the now muted shouts and dimmed flashes, which while nothing he hadn't seen before, were still irritating.

"You sure you want to be seen with me?" she asked.

"Little late for that," he replied drily. "And anyway, being that you know my history better than I do, _Ms. Rushman_ , you know that this is small potatoes compared to some of the shit I've done."

"Yeah, but this someone else's potatoes being associated with you."

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," he replied, waving off her concern. He paused for a moment, watching her carefully for some sign of her headspace. Silence hung between them for another moment as they locked gazes, each looking for something in the other. "You know, for a spy that was a pretty conspicuous move back there," he said finally, breaking the silence that he'd grown uncomfortable with.

She smirked. "A girl's gotta have some fun sometimes."

"Normally I'm all in for that kind of fun. You know that. But in this case, I don't think anything in the last few days has been pleasurable for you."

"No? And why's that?"

"Well, for one, you just told the US government to shove it. Which let me just say, big fan. I'm **always** here to see stuffy, corrupt politicians have their asses handed to them."

"Given your history with politicians that's not surprising to me in the least," she replied drily.

He ignored her remark. "But that sort of thing isn't exactly in line with your generally preferred covert nature." Natasha said nothing and so he pressed on. "And two, I saw some of what was in the information dump. I didn't read too deeply, but I saw enough of your name to know that putting it out there didn't do you any favours."

Her expression doesn't shift from the mostly neutral one she'd worn since she'd gotten into the car. "It was necessary."

"Maybe," he conceded with a tilt of his head, "but that doesn't mean it didn't come at a cost to you. Low profile is not really an option for you now, is it?"

She glanced out the window at the still flashing cameras and reporters yelling for a comment despite the closed door. "There are places I can go to disappear."

"Run and hide doesn't seem like you."

"Not all of us are so confrontational to give out our home address and issue a public challenge to a terrorist," she remarked drily while shooting him a look.

"Okay, point taken." He paused before asking the more pertinent question. "How bad is this for you really?"

She shrugged. "It's manageable."

"You know, that doesn't really answer the question."

"And yet it's the answer you're going to get "

"Natasha," he implored with a sigh.

"What, Stark?"

"Oh, don't _Stark_ me. We've fought aliens together and I even let you stab me in the neck that one time-"

"Let me?"

"Okay, maybe I didn't exactly _let_ you because you were absolutely gonna do it no matter what I did or said, but still, that's a level of intimacy few have achieved with me and I think that puts us in a place where first names are okay."

"You really never shut up, do you?"

"Only when Pepper tells me to." Natasha arched a knowing eyebrow. "About 12% of the time Pepper tells me to," he amended.

"Why did you come?" she asked bluntly.

Tony was admittedly a little hurt by the question and the underlying assumption that coming to her and Cap's defence wasn't something he'd do. He'd been late hearing the news that the two of them were wanted fugitives, owing to a lengthy, uninterrupted tinkering session. He'd known immediately there was more going on than the news was reporting, because nothing about the things Rogers was accused of screamed Captain America to him. He'd tried to get them both on the phone but neither had answered, and by the time the news was reporting that helicarriers were under attack outside of the Triskelion, he was well and truly flummoxed. Then the SHIELD/Hydra files leaked online, and things started to fall into place.

"Well, since you and Rogers didn't think to give me a call when you were taking down a seriously shady organization within an _already_ shady organization, I thought I'd at least invite myself to the afterparty." He paused, letting his jab linger for a moment. "I would've helped, Natasha," he added quietly.

She held his gaze for a moment. "I know," she replied after a small sigh.

_Is that regret I hear?_ he mused. "Look, I don't know why you didn't call. I'm going to assume you had reasons. Probably wrong ones, but...you know, _reasons_ I guess."

"It was a judgment call."

He tried not to be hurt by that, hearing echoes of her assessment of him for the Avengers reverberating in his mind. "Look, what's done is done. But if you happen to find yourself in a similar situation, maybe think to give your old pal Tony a call, yeah?"

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Good. Now, where are we headed?"

"What, you don't want to fuel more rumours by sitting here with the press outside the car?"

"I suspect Pepper is already going to have my head for this. No need to give her more ammo."

"The Tower then, I suppose."

He nodded and pushed a button to lower the partition. "Back to the Tower, Happy."

"You got it, boss," he replied with a nod before meeting Natasha's gaze. "Agent Romanoff," he added with a stiff nod.

"Hi, Happy," she greeted with a tired smile. "Thanks for the ride."

"Of course," he answered with a nod before closing the partition.

"Don't mind him, he's still holding a grudge over you knocking him on his ass."

"I slipped!" Happy said just before the partition finished closing.

"So, does this mean you're finally moving in?" Tony asked as she turned back to face him again.

She sighed. "I might have to now. At least for a little while. I still have some things I need to handle, but a somewhat reliable home base wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

"I'm going to ignore your "somewhat" qualifier there, 'cause that's just mean." She rolled her eyes and then he cycled back to more serious subject matter. "They make any threats away from the TV feed? I've got an army of lawyers on my payroll that haven't had much to do since I've been behaving myself."

"I think your definition and your board's definition of good behaviour differ significantly."

He was undaunted by her weak misdirect because if she'd wanted the subject dropped, she wouldn't mince words about it. "Seriously though, Natasha. Do you need a lawyer?"

"I doubt it. I think I made my value clear to them. I'm guessing the landscape is too uncertain for them to pursue anything effectively."

"If they end up pursuing something, let me know. It's bullshit that they'd try to pin this on you anyway."

"I will," she says, and he believes her.

"By the way, how exactly did your merry little band of shit disturbers decide on who had to face the music?" Tony asked, getting to the question he really wanted to ask. "Why you, Red? Why not Rogers? There's no way they'd arrest the hallowed Captain America."

Natasha shook her head. "He's indisposed currently."

"Indisposed?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, gaze fixed out the window again.

"What about Fury?"

"Dead. Did you not see the news?"

"Forgive me for not believing that the man whose secrets have secrets is dead."

"Secrets or not, doesn't mean he isn't dead."

"Fine, if not him then surely Hill."

Natasha turned to face him. "Funny you should mention her."

His gaze narrowed because Natasha had _that look_ on her face. "No, it's not funny. It actually seems remarkably _unfunny_ to me."

"I hear she's looking for a job."

He couldn't help the laugh. "Have anything to do with the helicarriers currently sitting in the Potomac?"

She smiled. "It might."

He sighed. It wasn't the _worst_ idea in the world to hire her. If the Avengers were needed again, she'd be an invaluable resource. And besides, you didn't get to being Fury's right-hand man - _er, woman_ , he corrected himself - without being damn good at your job. "She's not going with Fury?"

"Quit fishing, Stark."

" _You're_ not going with him wherever he's setting up the new shop?"

"Tony," she repeated, and this time he thought she sounded tired. Not that he blamed her. It was exhausting dealing with politicians with sticks up their asses. Not to mention that whole 'taking down a corrupt organization' thing.

"Alright, alright. But you skirted the original question. Why you?"

"I was the one who leaked everything. They already don't like me for that. Hill is of more use if she doesn't have to burn her remaining bridges and contacts by being the face of it."

"They'll call her for questioning."

"I have no doubt. But she isn't the face of the story. I am."

"And Rogers gets to keep his squeaky-clean reputation intact. Seems like a raw deal for you, Natasha."

She shrugged. "I'm used to looking over my shoulder and being hated by the government."

He eyed her, watching for any tell of emotion, but all she looked like to him was tired...maybe even exhausted, and he wondered when the last time she got a full night's rest was. "Well, move into the Tower and you've got a whole floor to yourself, not to mention there's no threat of anyone getting to you there. Security is top of the line and you've got a live-in engineer with a penchant for designing security systems. I'll even let you look over the blueprints."

"It won't be for long," she warned. "I have a web to rebuild."

"Was that a spider pun?"

"I'm already regretting my decision."

"Nah, it's gonna be the best! I can upgrade your gear if you want. I saw what those wrist gauntlets can do, and I think there's a lot of space to improve."

"They're fine, Stark."

"Well, sure. But I don't do fine. Besides, it would be nice to tinker with something other than my suits."

"Don't you have a company to create tech for? Tinker with that."

He waved off the question. "Projects are already on the go. This is for fun!"

"You have an odd definition of fun, you know that?"

"I've been told a time or two. Not my fault the world has awful standards for these things."

"One of those for me?" she asked, gesturing to the coffees.

"Oh, yeah," he said, grabbing hers and handing it to her. He watched as she took off the lid and took a quick sniff. "It's not poisoned, I promise."

She laughed. "What makes you so sure it would be effective if it was?"

He blinked as he tried to puzzle out if she was joking.

"Who ordered it?" she asked after taking a sip.

He frowned. "I did… Why?"

"How'd you know what to order?"

"I know things," he defended.

JARVIS' voice suddenly filled the car. "It was a best guess based on the receipts on file from your time in legal and as Mr. Stark's PA."

"What the hell, JARVIS?!" he said, incredulous that his own AI would out him like that.

"And was it your idea or Tony's to get something for me?" she asked, her expression belying that she clearly already knew the answer.

"J, I swear I will reboot-"

"It was my suggestion, though Mr. Stark was on board immediately."

"That's very thoughtful of you, JARVIS. Thank you."

"You are most welcome, Ms. Romanoff."

"You know, I never pegged you for someone who trusted technology," Tony said.

"Because I'm Russian?"

"Because you're...well, you," he countered.

She chuckled. "You forget I've seen some of the coding for JARVIS."

"Holy shit. You're right," he said as his eyes widened at the revelation. "I have some questions about that, by the way."

"Yep, definitely regretting my decision now."

"No, no, this is great!"

"Debatable."

"Ms. Romanoff?" JARVIS interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Might I ask, your coffee order...is it correct?"

She smiled. "It was my go-to that I used to order while undercover at Stark Industries, yes."

"That's not what he asked," Tony pointed out.

"Actually, it is."

"Let me rephrase for him then. Is it actually _your_ coffee order?"

She grinned as she brought the cup up to her lips and took a sip but stayed silent.

"What does that mean? Is that a yes? That looks like a yes to me. Or...maybe a no? I'm getting mixed signals here."

* * *

"So, this floor is yours," Tony said as he strolled out of the elevator, Natasha by his side. They'd arrived at the Tower after making their way through the brutal New York traffic and she had, for reasons passing his understanding, agreed to let him show her around.

"One for each of us?"

"Yeah. Figured if this superhero life became a habit it'd be a good idea to have an HQ that catered to everyone."

She stayed silent but he saw her eyes scrutinizing every detail as she walked into the main, open area of the floor. He didn't doubt that she was filing away information for further review later.

"It's got a similar layout to the others, full kitchen, office, bedroom with a full bathroom, laundry room, plus a large main area." He saw her eyes lingering on the walls of glass. _Probably paranoid about enemy access…_ he thought to himself. "The glass is basically impenetrable," he assured her. "Top of the line, out of the lab. I could run you through the logistics of it but suffice it to say it's not your average panes. JARVIS has full tint control of it too, so you can leave it opaque if you prefer."

She nods, apparently satisfied with his explanation.

"Decor isn't anything special-"

"Is that a Jackson Pollack?" she interrupted, pointing to the painting on the wall.

His gaze followed her gesture. "I honestly couldn't tell you."

"You don't know if you own a Jackson Pollack piece?" she replied, brows rising in what appeared to him to be genuine surprise.

"No, Pepper curated the art collecti-" he stopped abruptly as he realized she'd revealed a kernel of _something_ about herself. "Wait. You know art?"

She shrugged. "Basic knowledge in a variety of subjects is valuable to a spy."

"Is this the part where you tell me the Black Widow secretly has a degree in fine arts?"

"Don't be silly," she said with a roll of her eyes as she stepped away from him and toward the painting. "I studied art history," she added with a teasing grin as she glanced over her shoulder.

His eyes widened because he absolutely did not expect that. "You have a degree in art history? Seriously?"

She laughed. "I never said I had a degree." He frowned in confusion as he stepped forward and joined her in staring at the painting. "College student is an easy cover on more missions than you'd think," she said in explanation.

He glanced at her. "And out of everything, you picked art history to major in?"

She shrugged again. "Easier to memorize that than chemistry or biology."

"Huh," he said as he considered her point. He had no trouble envisioning a slightly younger Natasha with a backpack slung over her shoulder walking across a campus. "And here I thought you'd have been studying law."

She rolled her eyes at his not at all subtle dig at her Natalie Rushman cover.

A thought occurred to him suddenly. "Hang on, was that paperwork you did for Pepper becoming CEO legit?"

She chuckled. "All on the up and up, don't worry."

He flashed a grin in relief at her before looking back to the painting. "So, is this your sort of thing, or should I get it replaced?"

"You're asking me if I'd like the painting worth _tens of millions_ of dollars replaced?" she asked while shooting him an incredulous look.

"What? If you don't like it-"

"Sometimes you make it impossible to forget that you're disgustingly rich, you know that?"

"I'm just saying, this is your floor. While my style and taste are flawless, I recognize that you have your own preferences."

"How magnanimous of you."

"Look, I know you aren't my biggest fan-"

"I-"

"No, I get it. I was a narcissistic asshole. Still am a lot of the time. But I'm trying to do better." He paused as she held his gaze with something in her eyes telling him she was genuinely listening to him. "I don't know where this whole thing with SHIELD going down has left you, but you're free to make this place your own. Let JARVIS know what you need, and he'll make sure it gets done."

She was quiet for a beat and he hoped she understood the offer for what it was _: feel free to make this **home**_.

"Thank you, Tony," she said, tone soft and genuine.

"You're welcome," he said, eager to move them past the heavy topic. "Now, about your equipment. I've been thinking...besides upgrading the gauntlets, how do you feel about batons?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts? Plausible that he'd visit and offer her an olive branch? Enjoy her dry comments? The call back to her take down of Happy? Let me know! Comments always brighten my day.
> 
> Still trying to carve out time here and there to write for this one and for Moments as well. Appreciate your patience.
> 
> And as always, thanks to those commenting and reading. Hope you're all well!


	12. A Long Way in a Short Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat suffers her first major injury at SHIELD saving Clint's life. Clint doesn't handle it well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been a hot minute since I've updated. sorry about that - real life is a bit of a writing time suck right now, but I'm trying to carve out some time here and there.
> 
> those who've read my other story 'Moments' might notice some references to a chapter in there... ;)
> 
> enjoy!

Clint eyed his partner critically. He let his gaze drift over her to catalogue the various bruises, gashes, and large swaths of bandages that covered the more dramatic injuries. Just a few hours before she had been far too pale and still bleeding as he’d been forced out of the room against his wishes. He _knew_ she hated all things medical and wouldn’t want to be left alone with doctors and nurses that she didn’t know, but Coulson hadn’t left any room for argument.

_“Barton. Out.” Coulson’s words were firm and left no room for interpretation as he pointed his finger meaningfully to the door._

_Clint stared him down with a hard expression. “You know that she hates medi-”_

_“Yes, I’m aware. But they’re working to save her life, and you being in there does nothing to help them with that,” Coulson returned calmly but with that same unmistakable steel in his tone. Clint prided himself on his ability to remain cool and collected during missions, but Coulson had always been on a whole other level with his ability to stay calm._

_Coulson reached a hand toward him slowly, presumably to guide him toward the door. Clint shoved the hand away and took a step back. “I’m not leaving her alone with them,” he replied gruffly._

_“You know them, Clint,” Coulson replied, tapping into what Clint had always assumed was an endless pool of patience. “It’s the same team that worked on you after the Helsinki op.”_

_Clint stared at him for a moment as the realization settled in that he_ **_did_ ** _in fact know them. He wasn't a huge fan of all things medical himself, but even he had to concede they were good eggs. He knew on some level that he was being slightly irrational, and that his continued arguing was foolish, but he felt an odd need to ensure her safety. Staying in the room somehow did that._

_Coulson tilted his head slightly and offered a smile. “Natasha knows you. She trusts you,” he said knowingly, having sussed out the reason for his continued worry. Clint met his concerned gaze stubbornly in a battle of wills. “Sit in the hallway for all I care,” Coulson added, “but you’re not staying in this room. They need to work and they can’t do that with you staring them down and being in the way.”_

Clint knew he should call Laura. She had a knack for understanding his sometimes-convoluted reasoning and knowing how to get through to him. She’d probably be able to get him to calm down and start thinking a bit straighter. He knew this, but he couldn’t make himself do anything but stare at his partner who was looking too pale and very much worse for wear. She was only a few hours out of surgery and he knew there was no expectation that she should look dramatically better than she had when he’d brought her in, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the assurances from the doctor that the surgery had gone well and that she’d be fine were in error.

“You should call Laura.”

Clint looked up to find Coulson entering the room with two cups of coffee. He readily accepted the one that was offered to him and nodded a silent thanks. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept, so even the stereotypically bad medical centre coffee tasted heavenly.

“She’s gonna be out for a while yet,” Coulson continued as he took a seat next to Clint. “Give Laura a call - I think it’d do you some good. I’ll sit with her while you’re gone.” 

Clint shook his head, partly in a physical manifestation of collecting his thoughts and partly in disbelief. “She came back for me.”

Coulson leaned back in the chair and rested his ankle on his knee.

“Of course, she did. You’re her partner.”

“She had the thumb drive and was under strict orders to get it back to the extraction point asap. She disobeyed that order to come save me,” he replied with another shake of his head.

Coulson eyed him for a moment, clearly trying to work out his logic in light of the fact that Clint himself went against protocols all the time. The woman lying on the bed beside them was living proof of that. “And you think Fury is going to punish her?”

Clint ran a hand through his hair roughly as he sighed heavily. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure he’s been happy with her performance so far, but there’s also a massive threat hanging over her head from him too. This wasn’t a small act of disobedience. This was disobeying a direct order from her supervising agent.”

Coulson shook his head. “Okay, now I **know** you’re sleep deprived.”

Clint frowned. “What?”

Coulson took a moment to take a sip of his own coffee before he clarified. “Let me get this straight. You think Fury is going to punish Natasha for going against orders in order to **save your life**? You actually think he’s going to punish an agent for saving another, more senior agent’s life?”

“Well, when you say it like that-”

“Look, I know people say Fury’s an asshole, and a lot of the time he is.” Clint’s eyebrows rose at his handler’s words. Phil Coulson was not the type to bad mouth colleagues. “But he’s not **that** much of an asshole. He didn’t have to allow her to defect in the first place, but he did. Despite what you might think, I know that he’s rooting for her to succeed.”

Clint blinked as he tried to process what he’d just been told. He knew, again, that Coulson was right. Fury was a good guy, even if his methods and execution weren’t always the best, he had the best intentions at the root of it.

Coulson continued his argument when Clint didn’t respond in any way. “There’s been no indication from any of her missions, training, or evaluations to suggest that she is anything but a capable and motivated agent of SHIELD.”

Clint let his head fall into his free hand and sighed as it sunk in that Coulson was right. There was no way Fury would take such drastic action on an agent that had been nothing but successful and loyal so far.

“Clint,” Coulson said, tilting his head slightly. “Go get some sleep.”

Clint looked up with a raised eyebrow. “If you want me to sleep, why’d you bring me a coffee?”

Coulson smiled, shook his head, and sighed lightly. “Because I knew you were going to ignore that order.”

A smile flickered on Clint’s face for a moment. “You really think she’s gonna be okay?”

“The docs know what they’re doing, Clint. You know Marc doesn’t throw out assurances without basis. He’s never been one to sugar-coat stuff.”

Clint nodded as he took a sip of his coffee. He paused another moment before he replied, “I told her to go, Phil. She refused to listen.”

"Of course, she didn't listen. _You're_ her supervising officer, what did you expect?"

Clint grinned. He was quite proud that she seemed to have absorbed some of his penchant for shit disturbing, given that the environment she'd come from hadn't allowed for any sort of that behaviour.

Coulson smiled warmly. “She’s come a long way in a short time, huh?”

Clint looked over at her prone form on the bed and then back to Coulson. "Sure has."

* * *

"You finish your report?" Coulson asked as he entered the room, a paper bag held in one hand and his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Clint stared at him with a confused expression. “The post-mission report…" Coulson clarified with a slight furrow of concern creasing his brow.

"Right," Clint said in recognition with a snap of his fingers once his brain finally kicked in. "Uh, no. Haven't had a chance to do that yet."

"Barton," Coulson warned.

"I know. I just-” he said, stopping abruptly as he sighed. “I didn't want her to be alone,” he added.

Coulson put down the bag on a table before opening his bag to retrieve a laptop which he held out to Clint. "File the reports. You know there's going to be follow-ups on account of the severity of her injuries, so make sure to be detailed."

Clint accepted the laptop with a grateful smile. SHIELD was big on procedure and paperwork and he knew that not many handlers would be so forgiving and accommodating. "I will," he promised. Coulson arched an eyebrow meaningfully. "I swear on my bow, Phil. I’ll get ‘em done today."

"Good. But first, lunch," he said, reaching into the bag he'd set down and pulling out a couple containers. "The nurses told me you refused the food they offered to bring you."

"I hate hospital food," Clint muttered.

"This is not technically a hospital."

Clint glowered briefly. "Tastes like it."

"Which is why I brought you a sandwich and soup from Gregor's Deli."

Clint's expression brightened. "You went to Gregor's? Aw, you love me, Phil."

Coulson shook his head and rolled his eyes, but Clint could easily see the smile threatening to spread. "Eat, Barton. And then file your reports. That's an order."

Clint sat up and saluted lazily, prompting another roll of Coulson’s eyes. “Yes, sir.”

* * *

“Fuck.”

Clint sat up at the quiet curse coming from the bed. “Hey,” he said softly. He felt a smile begin to form and the pit of worry in his stomach begin to dissipate as he saw she was awake and staring at him.

“How bad?” she asked, voice rough but determined as her gaze drifted down her body, no doubt trying to catalogue her injuries.

Clint reached a hand over to stop her action of trying to sit up. “Hang on, you can adjust the bed so you don’t have to get up,” he said while looking for the remote that controlled the bed.

“How bad is it?” she repeated, undaunted by his lack of answer to her question.

He hadn't been looking forward to breaking the news of the severity of her injuries to her, but damned if a part of him didn't feel better knowing she was her normal self, worried about her mission readiness. He stopped looking for the remote and met her gaze. “You got one through the shoulder and one in the thigh, plus some cracked ribs from the fall,” he supplied, unable to keep the grimace off his face. It had not been easy to watch. Being unable to do anything to stop it had brought a new level of anxiety he hadn't known he possessed. He'd become so used to her arguably ridiculous pain threshold that the expression of pain on her face when it had happened had damn near stunned him. 

“Shit,” she swore as her head flopped back against the bed in frustration. Whether the frustration stemmed from her inability to come out of the mission unscathed or that her injuries were severe, he wasn't sure. He was equally worried and relieved when she drifted back asleep quickly.

* * *

True to his word, Clint had begun completing the necessary reports. He sat in the chair he’d dragged next to Natasha’s bed with the laptop Coulson had given him resting on his thighs as he tapped out his account of the events that had unfolded.

"You're still here."

“Hey, how ya feeling?” he asked as he looked up from his report.

"Why are you still here?"

He suppressed the frown that wanted to form and instead kept a neutral expression. It was maddening sometimes how someone so bright and well trained could understand so little.

"Nice way to say thanks, Romanoff."

"You saw I was fine earlier. Why are you still here?"

He clenched his teeth to rein in his anger that flared at another instance of running into something else the assholes at the Red Room had robbed her of. "Being laid up after an injury is awful enough as it is. No reason you have to be alone doing it."

Her brow furrowed. "But-"

"Look, I didn't have the best relationship with my parents growing up, but there were times when I was sick or hurt that all I wanted was my mom. I know you didn't have that, and you were raised to not need people, to not lean on them for support. I was raised that way too, but it's not true anymore. You can lean on me, and Coulson, and hell, even Fury."

"I-"

He held up a hand. "I'm not leaving, Natasha. Deal with it."

She blinked slowly a few times, eyes glassy from the meds she was on, and stared at him. It seemed to him that she was trying to formulate a response, but was having trouble finding the words she wanted to use. "I- Thank you," she settled on finally.

"You're welcome," he said as he looked back down at his report and hit the ‘save draft’ button before he closed the lid, leaned back and kicked his feet up onto the edge of her bed while using the remote to flick the tv up in the corner on. "Aw, look at that. You're in luck. Star Wars marathon starting in a couple minutes."

She managed, somewhat clumsily but with more grace than he'd expected, to shove his feet off her bed in a silent but pointed reply.

"Ow, alright, alright. No feet on the bed. Got it."

They made it through 15 minutes of the movie before she realized what he was doing. "Why are you here?" she asked pointedly.

"We covered that already, Natasha," he deflected, not looking away from the screen.

"But you're going home," she replied stubbornly, referencing his impending planned weekend home with Laura while **not** on call. Her words were not slurred, but there was an almost haze of confusion in her tone that was no doubt caused by the meds they'd given her for the pain. 

“I’m pushing it off.”

She stared at him for a moment with what he had come to identify as her incredulous 'you're not serious…' expression before she replied, "No."

“No?” he echoed in surprise.

“No,” she confirmed. “Absolutely not. You’re going home.”

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not about to leave you here alone."

"I don't need you here, Clint."

He supposed she'd been aiming for her words to be stinging. But after all the time they'd spent working together he'd finally begun to get to know the softer side of Natasha Romanoff, and so he knew her tone lacked the usual strength.

"I'm here to protect the nurses," he volleyed back with a quick grin.

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "I'll behave if you go home," she bargained.

_Fat chance of that._ "Nat-"

"Clint, you haven't seen her in-"

"Laura will understand," he replied, cutting her off.

"This is not a nothing injury, Nat. It's serious."

"Yes, I'm aware," she remarked dryly. Despite the argument, Clint felt a bit better now that she was back to using her dry-as-the-Sahara humour. "It doesn't matter if she would understand. Go home and spend time with her."

"Nat-"

"I mean it, Clint. Go," she said firmly. Clint opened his mouth again to protest but she pre-empted him. "Coulson will check on me. You know that."

"Nat-" he tried again.

"You have a wife. She deserves to get to spend time with you."

"And I will when my partner isn't lying in a bed in medical with bullet holes in her body and cracked ribs."

"They're not going to heal faster just because you're here. Coulson can hover on your behalf."

He couldn't help the twitch of his lips at her insinuation of Coulson hovering (because he _absolutely_ would hover -- the man was like a fretting grandmother when his agents got injured), but he sobered quickly. "I-"

"This isn't the first time I've been injured, Clint."

_No shit_ , he thought to himself miserably. The little he did know about her upbringing was more than enough to confirm her words were a **serious** understatement.

"First big injury at SHIELD," he countered.

Nat's expression shifted and it was then that Clint realized that she understood exactly _why_ he was so vehemently protesting leaving her. Her tone softened a touch as she began to speak again. "I know it's different, Clint. You think I haven't thought about it? You think I didn't notice the difference between this and how it used to be? You think I didn't realize that getting actual medical care rather than being expected to patch yourself up was different?"

Clint found himself at a loss for a response and simply blinked at her words. It was uncharacteristic of her to unload like that, and truthfully it had unnerved him a bit. He wasn't used to hearing her talk about herself that much and certainly not with that much...vigor.

"The fact that you and Coulson care for **me** and not just what skills I bring to SHIELD...that's enough." She paused to let her words sink in. "I know it's different, Clint," she added as she held his gaze meaningfully and he felt himself begin to lose steam in his argument. "So please, go home to your wife and eat some of that homemade apple pie she makes that you love so much," she finished with a small smile.

"She's right, you know," Coulson said from the doorway.

Clint exhaled heavily as he turned to glance at Coulson briefly. "That you'll hover?" he quipped.

Coulson smiled, but Clint could tell he'd read right through his quipped words. "I don't hover," he protested. "I ensure the health and well-being of my agents."

Clint saw Natasha's smirk out of the corner of his eye and couldn't help rolling his eyes in a show of solidarity with her at the ridiculousness of his words.

"I'll make sure she behaves for the nurses," Coulson assured. "I'm told I can be persuasive," he added in reply to Clint's look of skepticism.

"I'm right here," Natasha interjected.

"This doesn't feel right," Clint said with a shake of his head, ignoring her objection.

"Go, Clint," Natasha said firmly, "or I'll get Coulson to call Laura."

Clint's gaze narrowed at her threat, assessing whether she'd really pull that card. He glanced at Coulson who just shrugged with that neutral expression that had a hint of a smile in it. _Shit. He's on board with it_ . _No way I'm winning this one._

"I'm keeping my phone on."

* * *

"You okay, babe?"

Clint looked over at Laura. "Yeah, why?"

"Well, for one you've put about twelve coats of paint on that section of the wall." He looked down at the roller in his hand and then up at the wall which was, admittedly, very well covered with the new colour.

"Everything alright? You've been pretty distracted since you got here."

"Sorry, I-"

She immediately shook her head and held up her hands in a motion for him to stop. "Don't be. It's alright, I'm just asking."

_God, I love this woman_ , he thought, grateful for how understanding she was about everything that came along with his job.

"Are you worried about Natasha's injuries?" He blinked at his wife's ability to hone in on the topic of his concern seemingly with ease. "I thought you said the doctors said she would be fine."

"I did. She will. I just…" he trailed off and put down the roller before gesturing for them to sit on the nearby couch, safely covered by a drop cloth. "This is gonna sound ridiculous."

"Try me," she challenged with an encouraging smile as she sat next to him and put her legs over his lap. He clasped his hands on her knees and squeezed them affectionately.

"I feel bad about leaving her there. I know Coulson's keeping an eye on her, and I know that she's fully capable of handling it on her own, I just- She hasn't had a serious injury like that at SHIELD, and I'm pretty sure she's never been in a situation where people actually care about her recovery beyond her mission readiness," he explained, the words spilling out a bit quicker than he'd intended. "And I-"

Laura tilted her head and smiled knowingly. "You wanted to stay," she interrupted plainly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He grimaced guiltily. "Yeah," he exhaled. "I know it's been ages since you and I have had any time together, but I just- I was the one who brought her into this, you know? And she saved my life when she didn't have to. She went against my orders to do it, and got a couple bullets and some cracked ribs for her trouble."

Laura was quiet for a beat before she answered. "She's come a long way from that teenager I met in the diner." He nodded, because she **absolutely** had. "And that includes her understanding and building trust

with you. She doesn't make that play to save your life if she doesn't trust you, Clint."

"I know."

"Did she say she was fine before you left?"

He looked up sheepishly at having been caught out. "Yeah."

"Then honour that. You can check in and be supportive, but she needs agency of her own too."

"She's not so good at asking for help though."

"Not unlike a certain man I know," Laura replied with a knowing smile. "Phil's with her, I assume?" He nodded. "Then she'll be fine."

Clint was quiet for a moment and when he looked up at Laura she smiled again. "You want to bring her here."

His eyes widened. "You sure you don't wanna join SHIELD?" he joked. "You seem to have an uncanny ability to read minds. Could be pretty useful."

"Limited to yours on rare occasions, I'm afraid," she replied with a smile. "Just so you know, I'm fine with it. Invite her here to spend some time. She's already been here once, and it's clear that this partnership of yours is going to last. It’ll be good to get to know her, and to thank her properly for saving your ass."

He held her gaze for a moment, wondering not for the first time how he'd gotten lucky enough to meet and fall in love with her. "Did I tell you that I love you today? Because I do. I absolutely do," he said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her knee.

Laura smiled and sat up, leaning forward to give him a kiss. "You did, but I don't mind hearing it again. And it just so happens that I love you too."

He grinned and kissed her again. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"I do," she replied as she laid back down and stretched her arms behind her head lazily before she met his gaze again while reaching a hand up to hold his. "I was serious about inviting Natasha."

"I know. Maybe after she recovers some more. I don't think she'd do well in an unfamiliar place while less than mission ready."

Laura nodded. "I suppose not. You know what this means, right?"

He frowned. "No, what?"

"Finishing that guest room upstairs just got pushed higher up on the priority list."

Clint chuckled. "I suppose you're right. You get your way after all."

She grinned. "We both know I'd have gotten my way anyway."

"Yes ma'am." They fell quiet for a moment before a thought occurred to him. "You sure about this, Laur?"

Laura smiled as she sighed lightly. "She's a good kid."

He pursed his lips. "I don't think she was ever really a kid."

"Probably not," she agreed. "But she took a bullet for you. Several, in fact. If that's not enough of a resume, then I'm not sure what is."

He hesitates, because there's still a lot about Nat that is unstable and uncertain. Letting her meet Laura while in his presence at a diner was one thing. Having her sleep at their home was another. "Laura," he began slowly, "you have to understand that she's not exactly-"

"What? Normal?" He sighed because it _was_ what he meant, but it wasn't something he _wanted_ to have meant.

"Normal's overrated."

"Babe-"

"Clint, a little trauma isn't going to scare me."

"It's not a little, Laura," he said meaningfully.

"All the more reason to bring her here. Clint, she deserves to have some of this peace. I know you want to give her that. I know you do, because you're a good man. The same good man that spared her life."

He stayed quiet as he considered it.

"Let's give her this, Clint."

"Okay," he agreed with a nod.

* * *

A couple months passed before he deemed it safe enough to broach the subject and not have her dismiss it out of hand out of fear or concern she wouldn't be fit enough.

"So, I've been thinking." Nat stared at him, head tilted ever so slightly and her expression silently requesting him to continue speaking. "I'm due to take some vacation time, and you're on medical leave for at least another month."

"Ok…"

"You should come with me."

Nat glanced around, checking for anyone who might overhear, and he respected her all the more for her discretion. "To the farm?" she clarified.

"Yeah," he said plainly with a nod, “visit for a bit."

She frowned deeply. "But that's your home."

Her response confused him and he mirrored her expression with a frown of his own. "Yeah."

"You want me to visit your home?"

"Yes."

"To...to stay?"

His heart clenched at the uncertainty in her words. It felt so out of place from her normally self-assured and no-room-for-bullshit tone. He swallowed, willing himself to keep a relaxed expression. "Yes."

"Why?"

He held her gaze for a moment and found in her eyes a genuine confusion that broke his heart. "Because you're my partner. Because you saved my life. Because you're my friend," he listed off. "But mostly because I want to bring you there." 

She shakes her head. "Clint, I can't impose-"

"It's not imposing if I'm inviting you. I want you to come. _Laura_ wants you to come."

"You don't have to do that," she argued. "I can stay here to finish off my medical leave-"

"Nat, listen," he interrupted and waited for her gaze to tip up and lock with his own. "I'm not doing this out of pity or because I feel compelled that I owe you something after you saved my life-"

Her interruption was swift and resolute. "You don't. I owe you."

Clint's eyes widened. "What?"

"I owe you. You saved my life when you went against your orders to kill me. You gave me...all of this. A brand-new life. I can't ever repay that."

Clint felt physically sick as he realized that their partnership was, in her eyes, an unequal one. "Is that why you did what you did? Is that why you took those bullets?"

"You're a good person, Clint. Better than me. Better you to live than me."

Clint felt like he was going to throw up. "Natasha," he said softly, sadly, "you don't owe me anything, okay? Everything you do from here on out is up to you. You matter too, and there's no need to do anything because you feel indebted to me. We're square, okay?"

She offered a small smile that Clint clocked immediately as fake and he scrubbed his hands over his eyes. "So, you in?"

She hesitated and he shot her a look that was half encouraging and half warning that she better knock off the ledger comparisons. "If you're sure-"

"I am. I'll pick you up on Friday. Pack warm, it can get chilly there this time of year.

She nodded seriously and he gave a quick nod of his own before waving and heading out of the room. As he made his way toward Coulson's office, he began to think of the ways he might be able to convince her that she didn't owe him a damn thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...did you enjoy Clint's mother hen instincts? Coulson's ability to put up with Clint's nonsense? Laura calling Clint out on his shit?  
> as always - thoughts, comments, suggestions are welcomed.
> 
> despite the longer wait between updates, there's definitely more of this story to come, so bear with me!


	13. Won't Give You Up So Easily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha struggles for sleep at the farm and Laura tries her best to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those who've read my other fic, Moments, might notice this one was referenced in one of Laura's chapters there. ;)
> 
> enjoy!

Laura glanced over at Clint and found him sleeping soundly, undisturbed by the quiet noises coming from the guest room. The noises weren't loud by any means, but then Laura had always been a light sleeper. And really, given how exhausted Clint had looked when he walked through the door, she wasn't surprised he was sleeping like the dead in the safety of his own home.

She glanced at the clock and found it was still early in the morning. She wondered if Natasha was moving around because she couldn't get back to sleep, or if she hadn't yet gone to sleep. The first time Laura met Natasha it hadn't been hard to spot what Clint had seen in her. She was a bit of a lost soul, someone in an unfamiliar world lacking some of the tools to navigate it to the degree she would like to, and Laura had immediately felt a need to take her under her wing. That need to protect and help the young woman flared once again as she swung her legs out of bed gently and grabbed her robe from the nearby chair.

She padded out of the room quietly and closed the door with a soft click behind her. She paused outside the guest room and spent a moment weighing whether it was wise to butt in, before ultimately opting to extend an olive branch. Natasha could make up her own mind as to what she wanted, and so Laura knocked softly on the door.

There was a beat of silence before she heard a soft exhale and then a quiet, "come in."

"Hey," she began with a smile she hoped offered some comfort, "I was on my way down to make some tea and thought I heard you were up. Want to join me?"

Natasha scrutinized her with a neutral expression, but calculating eyes that Laura knew had clocked her white lie easily. "If you don't mind," she replied finally, apparently having decided to let the lie go.

Laura smiled warmly, truthfully a little surprised. "I don't mind at all."

Natasha nodded and grabbed a sweater from her bag to put on. It was there in the limited pale moonlight coming through the window that Laura noticed the heavy bags under the redhead's eyes. How did I not notice that before? she wondered as she turned and headed toward the stairs. Or is that just from tonight?

They descended the stairs in silence and Laura found herself a touch surprised by the fact that Natasha seemed to already be able to avoid the creaky parts of the steps. She was trained from childhood to be a spy, she reminded herself. Of course she can navigate some creaky stairs.

They made it to the kitchen and Laura gestured for Natasha to sit while she put on the kettle and searched for some mugs and tea. "Is it the house settling?" she asked with a quick glance behind her toward Natasha.

Natasha blinked as she stared somewhat blankly for a second. "What do you mean?"

"That's keeping you up," Laura clarified. Natasha eyed her and Laura figured she was weighing whether to keep up appearances or answer truthfully. "It kept me awake at first when we moved in. This house is loud at night when there's nothing else to fill the space. I imagine it's quite a bit different to what you're used to."

"It doesn't bother me," Natasha answered plainly.

"Okay," Laura answered with a small smile as she grabbed the kettle and poured water into the mugs before bringing them over to the table to let them steep. "Do you want something to put in it? I have honey, maple syrup, and even some lemons around here somewhere."

"Honey is fine," Natasha answered, her tone still painfully polite. Laura knew Natasha had relaxed a touch around Phil and Clint, but in the unfamiliar territory of the house the young woman was clearly going to great lengths to remain the perfect house guest.

They fell into silence as Laura grabbed the container for the honey and two spoons. She wondered what had the young woman sleeping so fitfully but didn't dare press. They were barely acquaintances, let alone people who shared secrets in the dead of night. Still, she felt compelled to offer something to her.

"I meant to say thank you earlier," Laura said, breaking the silence as she slid into the chair across from the redhead. Natasha frowned in a silent question. "For what you did for Clint. It means a lot that you would save him like that. He told me you went out of your way to do it."

Natasha grabbed a spoon to add some honey to her tea. "He's a good man," she explained, gaze locked on her task. Her answer was simple and to the point, as though no more words were even necessary.

"Still, it's good to know he has someone he can trust watching his back," Laura pressed.

Natasha looked up and met Laura's gaze with a painfully neutral expression, but the carefully constructed neutrality revealed more than she supposed the young woman realized.

"He's an idiot about many things," Laura continued with a smile that Natasha mirrored for a fleeting moment, "but he does not give his trust lightly. This farmhouse is his most fiercely protected secret, and the fact that he was so eager to share it with you should tell you exactly how much he trusts you."

Natasha was quiet for a moment, and not for the first time, Laura was reminded of just how young she really was. "I don't understand why," she said softly.

Laura took a moment to sip from her mug before answering. "Because he saw something in you that night he went against his orders to kill you. Because he sees how hard you've worked to become your own person."

Natasha remained silent as Laura's words hung in the air. May as well fully extend the olive branch Laura mused.

"Clint is good at a lot of things and he is a better listener than many people give him credit for, but if you ever want to talk to someone outside of SHIELD...I'm here. I know we don't know each other all that well, and that's something I hope changes, but the offer stands."

Natasha nodded politely. "Thank you."

Laura eyed her, trying to work out if the offer had been rebuffed outright, or if it might be something the redhead would consider in the future. "Drink up," she said as they lapsed into a slightly awkward silence, "this tea tastes awful when it's cold."

Natasha picked up her mug and took a sip immediately, offering a small, polite smile. "Thank you," she repeated.

* * *

Days passed without incident, but Laura knew the young woman still wasn't sleeping well. Natasha had flawlessly applied makeup each day and there was nothing in her behaviour or actions that indicated anything was amiss. Still, there was just something that Laura couldn't quite put her finger on that told her the redhead was still struggling for sleep at night.

A few nights after their late-night conversation over tea they'd sat down after a late dinner to watch a movie. Natasha had politely excused herself just thirty minutes into the movie, citing a headache. Clint had frowned just a touch as he watched her climb the stairs.

"You good?" Laura asked quietly when the redhead's figure had disappeared up the stairs.

"Yeah," he answered, gaze still fixed on the stairs and a crinkle in his brow as though mulling something over.

"She okay?"

"I don't know," he admitted, turning his head down to meet Laura's concerned gaze. "She was fine and then suddenly she wasn't."

"Well, she hasn't been sleeping much."

"Maybe," he agreed as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Probably just being in an unfamiliar place. Hard for her to relax, you know?"

"Like someone else I know," she replied with a poke to his side.

"I'm taking the high road and not responding to that obvious lie," he said before hitting the play button on the remote to resume their movie.

Three hours later they'd finished the rest of the movie, plus the sequel and it was only then they both realized how late it was.

"Shit, is it that late?" Clint said as he glanced at his watch.

Laura untangled herself from his hold and peered down at his watch. "Two in the morning? Oops."

Clint chuckled. "We're party animals, I tell ya."

"Clearly," she replied with a chuckle. "C'mon, let's get to bed," she added as she stood up and held out a hand to him.

They made their way upstairs and were just about to enter their room when they heard a soft noise from the guest bathroom. They exchanged looks of concern and then made their way over to the source of the noise. The light inside was off, but the moonlight coming through the small window was enough to show a sliver of light along the bottom of the door, interrupted in the middle by something.

Clint knocked on the door gently. "Nat?"

They were met with silence for a few seconds before there was the softest, almost inaudible whimper. He knocked again gently. "Nat, I'm coming in," he said before slowly opening the door.

Neither of them had expected the sight they were met with - Natasha curled up on the floor, eyes squeezed shut and clutching at her head. A quick glance over to the nearby toilet confirmed evidence of her having been sick at some point.

Clearly the headache was more serious than we thought, Laura thought as her stomach clenched in worry. Concussion maybe? she mused. No, that would've surfaced earlier, right? She was fine yesterday...

"Natasha?" Clint said softly as he crouched down slowly. "What is it?"

Natasha let out a little moan as she curled further into herself. He glanced up at Laura and they shared another look of concern. To say this was out of character for the woman was a serious understatement.

"You gotta give me something, Natasha, so we can help you."

Natasha's brow furrowed deeply as she tried to speak. Choked sounds were all she could manage at first until finally she forced out, "Commands."

"Shit," Clint breathed, looking more concerned than Laura could ever remember seeing him. "It's the remnants of her conditioning," he explained to her.

"What can we do?" Laura whispered.

Clint grimaced as he stood up and met Laura's worried gaze. "I don't think there's much we can do. I'm gonna call Phil to see what he thinks. He knows more of her medical history."

Laura nodded as he slipped his phone out of his pocket and held it up to his ear while taking a few steps into the hallway. She looked down at the redhead again. It was startling to her just how small Natasha looked, curled in on herself. Clint had told her some of Natasha's history, so she knew some of what was done to her, but to see the effects of it first-hand...it made her sick to her stomach. No one should have experienced what she had...but still, she was too young to have lived through such hell. Too young to still be living through it.

Letting her instincts guide her, Laura grabbed a washcloth and wet it with cool water before she squatted down in front of the redhead and placed it on her forehead. Immediately she felt some tension release from Natasha's body, and she heard a soft sigh of relief.

Good, she thought, feeling some relief of her own that the young woman was finding some respite from what looked to be barely manageable pain.

She heard Clint's quiet tone as he relayed the information to Phil, and she glanced up at her husband. His expression fell at whatever answer he got from Phil, and he shook his head subtly in a silent reply to Laura's unspoken question. No easy solution then, she thought bitterly as she looked down at the redhead again in sympathy.

In hindsight, maybe it was foolish to put herself, a civilian, in such a vulnerable position with a woman who could kill her about a dozen different ways using objects in the bathroom, let alone with her own bare hands, but Laura couldn't have cared less. Natasha, for all her skills as a spy and assassin, was still a human being. And in a considerable amount of pain. She'd already been through hell and back, and if there was anything she could do to ease some of the pain, then Laura was game to do it. It was the least she could do for the woman who'd already saved her husband's life.

She felt Clint's gaze on her, and she stood up to shoot him a smile. "I've got this," she said firmly, decisiveness coming to her from an unknown place within her.

"You sure, babe?"

Laura nodded immediately. "There's nothing we can do but ride it out, right?" Clint nodded with a pained expression. "Then that's what we'll do," she said firmly. "I know you won't sleep, so maybe get started on the base coat of paint downstairs? I'll yell if I need anything."

He looked uncertain about everything, and for a moment Laura wasn't sure if he'd actually let them out of his sight. "You trust me?" she asked softly.

His answer was swift and simple. "Of course."

"You trust her?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Then go. I've got this."

He held her gaze for another second before he leaned in to give her a quick kiss. "I'm just downstairs," he said softly, squeezing her arm in a show of support.

Laura nodded and watched him disappear down the hall before turning her attention back to Natasha. She reached down to grab the cloth and wet it again before taking a steadying breath.

"I'm gonna sit down behind you, okay?" she said, unsure if the woman could really hear her, but erring on the side of caution because surprising someone like Natasha didn't seem like a wise course of action. She spotted a subtle nod of Natasha's head that she took to mean permission had been granted and forged ahead. "Okay, c'mere, Natasha," she coaxed softly, putting the cloth back onto the young woman's forehead and helping her shift closer to rest her head on Laura's lap. She began gently stroking the woman's head and felt tears sting the backs of her eyes when Natasha actually curled into the contact. It occurred to Laura at that point that she had probably never experienced that sort of tender and comforting touch before and she clenched her jaw to keep her emotions in check. "I'm here, Natasha. Just listen to my voice and focus on it. It's real, okay? You're at the farmhouse with me and Clint. He's downstairs working on another one of his damn renovation projects..."

Laura kept talking softly as she tried to distract Natasha from the horrors in her mind. She reached a hand down to grab one of her hands and began squeezing it reassuringly every so often. Suddenly Natasha began to push against Laura's hands clumsily as she tried to get up. Laura helped her and held the redhead's hair out of her face as she retched into the toilet. After a few minutes, Natasha slumped back down, and Laura felt another swell of emotion as she sought out the comfort of her touch once again.

"You've got this, Nat," she murmured, squeezing her hand for emphasis. "You've gotten past so much else; you can get through this too."

Natasha just moaned softly and pressed into the contact of Laura's hands, while Laura kept wishing with everything in her for this nightmare to end for the young woman.

* * *

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Laura asked as Natasha entered the kitchen the following morning.

Natasha's complexion was pale, and deep, dark bags sat under her eyes which were bloodshot. Overall, there was an undercurrent of exhaustion in her features and a hint of embarrassment in her posture. Still, despite all of it, Laura figured she looked a hell of a lot better than the previous night considering they'd sat on the bathroom floor for an hour and a half before Natasha had drifted to sleep.

"Better."

"Up for some food?" Natasha's expression twisted at the mere mention of food and Laura smiled in understanding. "Tea it is then. Have a seat," she instructed while pulling out a chair.

"Hey," Clint said as he entered the room, clothes covered in paint and a small grin on his face. "How's the head?"

"Not great," Natasha answered truthfully, "but better. I think I broke through a wall last night."

Clint's expression sobered as he answered. "Thought the docs got all of that shit outta there."

She shrugged. "Guess not."

He eyed her in concern, and Laura supposed he did so knowing the idea of more of it being hidden away to be triggered at some unknown point was likely terrifying. But he wisely seemed to decide to let Natasha choose whether she wanted to move past it or not when he added, "Well, if you're feeling up to it, I could use some help painting later."

She looked at him with a narrowed gaze, likely confused by his willingness to move past her episode with little more than a few words. She nodded, though with less certainty than Laura was used to seeing from her. "Yeah, okay."

"I've gotta get some more paint for the trim, and probably a couple more rollers too. I won't be long," he continued, leaning over to give Laura a quick kiss. "All good here?" Laura nodded immediately, and then watched as he headed out the front door.

Laura waited until the sound of the truck’s engine had faded completely before she spoke again. "Natasha," Laura said quietly, having decided to press the issue. She waited for the redhead to look up and meet her gaze. "About last night...I know you probably don't want to talk about it, and that's fine. I won't push you to. But I want you to know that Clint and I are both here for you for anything, and I mean anything you need."

"You're too kind." The unspoken "I don't deserve this" was there plain as day, and Laura instantly opted to call her out on it.

"You went through hell growing up. No one deserves that. You should have known love, and trust, and how it feels to laugh so deeply that it hurts, and the warmth that spreads through you when you're hugged, and the simple comfort that a gentle touch can bring..." Laura sighed heavily as she trailed off. Natasha's gaze was fixed on her, eyes ever so slightly widened at her little impromptu speech. "I can't give you back those things, but I can give them to you now. I know SHIELD values your skills and your contributions, and I know that Clint values having you as his partner. But he and I also appreciate you for just who you are...for just being Natasha." 

Natasha coughed lightly to clear to her throat, and, Laura supposed, to buy herself some time before she had to respond. “What if I don’t know who that is?”

The moments of the young woman allowing herself to show that kind of vulnerability had been few and far between, and to Laura it felt a little like she had been trying to out-wait a Siberian tiger. But she had done her best to not make a fuss when those moments had popped up. “You’re working on it,” she answered with a gentle smile. “You may not know yet what your favourite colour is, what clothes you like to wear, or if you prefer frozen yogurt or ice cream, but you’re the woman who decided to take a chance on listening to a guy with a bow and arrow. You’re the woman who’s literally taken bullets to save his life. You’re the woman who argues with him to get him to go home because you know I’m here waiting. You have a good heart, Natasha, and we appreciate having that in our lives. We appreciate having you in our lives."

Natasha held her gaze for a few seconds that felt endless to Laura. Finally, she responded with a simple, "Thank you."

It was only two words, but to Laura it felt like they had reached a new level of trust and understanding in their relationship. She sensed the woman needed a break from the heaviness of their current topic and opted to give her the out if she wanted it, but before she could say anything, Natasha surprised her by speaking.

"There was something on our last mission. I don't know what it was, but it triggered something in my brain. It's been…" she trailed off, clearly searching for the right descriptor, "clawing at my mind."

"That's why you haven't been able to sleep," Laura realized softly.

Natasha nodded. "I don't want to be under their control anymore."

Laura reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. "You aren't. You got through a hell of a lot already, and you'll get through this too. And besides, Clint and I won't give you up so easily," she added with a smile that Natasha returned with a small smile of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - thoughts on poor Natasha dealing with that? How do we feel about how Laura handled it? Enjoy the chapter? Let me know!


	14. What Are We Drinking To?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of a mission gone wrong, Nick handles Natasha's debriefing himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one that was loosely alluded to in the Nick chapter in my other story, Moments...
> 
> Enjoy!

Nick checked his phone as it chimed yet again with another update from Hill on the investigation into the absolute shit show that had unfolded over the past few days. To say he was pissed off was a serious understatement. They’d had a team on this investigation for _months_ , gathering information and intelligence from various sources on some individuals who had gotten their hands on some very dangerous weapons that had been heavily modified with a distinctly _scientific_ flair.

All the data they’d collected had pointed to a minimal crew on the premises, so they had devised a plan to send Agent Romanoff in alone to infiltrate and sabotage their operation. But things had **not** gone to plan and she had ended up being completely outmanned and outgunned, with no option but to let them take her prisoner.

But that wasn’t the problem. It certainly wasn’t the first time that Natasha had let herself be captured to gather information or access. It wasn’t even the first time that it had been as a result of a sudden change in plan. No, the problem was that no one at SHIELD, not even Coulson, had had any inkling that anything was wrong. The area was remote enough that their aerial coverage was spotty on a good day, and the cell reception, even with their SHIELD issued phones, was basically non-existent. They had known this going in, but by the time 48 hours had passed and they hadn’t seen or heard _anything_ from her, Coulson’s gut had told him something was wrong. Nick had authorized some more resources to be allocated to the op, having learned years before to trust the man’s gut. Seven and a half hours later, she finally called in to request an emergency evacuation. Another few hours after that, Coulson called him with an update on her, alerting him that she was nursing some serious injuries and would require medical attention upon their arrival back at base, but was able to make the trip back to the Triskelion with no immediate danger to her health.

That she required medical attention was not in and of itself alarming. She and Barton both seemed to have little regard for their own safety on their missions - a fact which he was certain was aging Phil Coulson by years at a time. But what _was_ alarming was that things had gone **so** badly on an op that, by all accounts, should have been an easy in and out job. Natasha was probably the best agent SHIELD had, so he’d had a very hard time imagining things had gone wrong as a result of her actions. It wasn’t impossible, but certainly improbable. When the details had begun to trickle in and organizational failure started to present itself as the culprit for the shit show, his anger had started leaking out and he’d informed Coulson and Hill that he’d be handling Romanoff’s debrief himself.

Nick’s phone chimed again with another update from Hill that made Nick’s lips press into a thin line as he watched the quinjet touch down on the landing pad in front of him. He watched as the ramp lowered almost immediately and Coulson led an obviously injured Romanoff down the ramp and toward him. When they reached him, they both paused briefly to look at him. “Let medical check you out, and when they clear you, meet me in my office for your debriefing,” he instructed gruffly, holding Natasha’s gaze meaningfully.

Her gaze was piercing and he knew she was trying to get a read on him. She had never been one to cower in the face of his wrath, and lord knows she and Barton had faced it on more than one occasion thanks to their creative solutions to missions. No, she had always faced his displeasure with a steely gaze and often a subtle arch of a brow in a silent challenge. Even Barton, shit disturber extraordinaire that he was, had the decency to know when to shut up and just listen. But Natasha...even when she said nothing, she said a whole damn lot, and it infuriated him most of the time. The only times he could recall her looking anything but completely mission-ready had been in the aftermath of her deprogramming sessions. They’d been borderline barbaric in what they’d needed to do to remove the triggers and conditioning, but she’d faced it all with that same steely determination. Even in the aftermath of this op that had ended up seriously FUBAR, she looked beyond exhausted and like she’d gone more than a few rounds with some assholes, but still held his gaze with a determination he couldn’t help but admire a little.

“Coulson, make sure medical clears her before she leaves, and then find Hill. She’s got a few things you’ll want to see,” he added.

* * *

The AI alerted him to someone requesting entrance to his office and he glanced at the security camera feed, finding Natasha looking at the camera with a bored expression on her face. He shook his head in amusement at her expression and got up to let her in.

“Hey, boss,” she greeted him with a tired smile that he supposed was meant to get under his skin. He’d fired agents for a lot less insubordination than she was showing him, but he’d come to know her well enough to know she was masking her pain with her flippant remark.

“Secure office,” he ordered the AI, ignoring her silent question in the form of an arched eyebrow. “Sit,” he ordered. Belatedly, he realized his tone was probably a bit gruffer than he had intended given it was obvious she was in a lot of pain, and that everything that had happened hadn’t been her fault according to the facts coming in from Hill. He softened his expression a little and gestured to the more comfortable chairs in his office, far from his desk.

For a moment it looked like she was going to reply with something witty - _I’m not a dog_ came to mind - but eventually she opted to sit in one of the chairs. Her movements were slow and measured, even if she was working hard to keep the pain off her face. He could see the beginnings of some nasty bruising on her neck and covering one side of her face, not to mention the cuts. He knew from the preliminary reports from Coulson and Hill that there was also fairly significant damage to her left side by her ribs, and on both her legs. All told, she’d been thrown around and beaten enough on this op that he was surprised she was able to stand, let alone walk. That she’d been able to complete as much of her objective as she had was, quite frankly, a goddamn miracle and a testament to just how good she was. _Or maybe how stubborn,_ he mused.

“Am I getting detention?” she asked drily, her one eyebrow arched ever so slightly in a patently Natasha Romanoff fashion. Yeah, there was that goddamn sass again.

He sat down in the other chair and held her gaze. People often called him an asshole and many accused him of not caring about people. He would agree with the former, and argue vehemently with the latter. He cared, including caring quite a bit for the woman in front of him who’d been through hell and then some. He’d taken a risk on trusting her and it had paid off in spades. Now she was a very capable agent, and someone he trusted to get the shit done that no one else could. But more than that...she was important to him. “Are you okay?” he asked in a tone that this time was far less gruff and far more concerned.

She blinked as she processed his question and all the micro expressions she no doubt had spotted on his face. It stung just a little that even after all these years she was still a bit surprised when he asked about her welfare. “I’ve had worse,” she answered finally.

“See, that’s an answer, but not to the question I asked,” he replied while pointedly glaring at her to _actually_ answer his question.

“I’ll be fine,” she amended with a roll of her eyes.

He scrutinized her for a moment, taking in the significance of her choice of words in her response. She usually went with ‘I’m fine’ not ‘I’ll _be_ fine.’ Clearly, she was in worse shape than everyone thought. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised at that, given the relative lack of shit she gave the medical staff this time around. She wasn’t stupid enough to turn down medical care altogether, but she watched them like a hawk and made them explain everything they did. This time around she hadn’t asked many questions - which Coulson had noticed and informed him about.

“You take any of the drugs medical gave you?” he asked, guessing the answer would be a resounding no but wanting to make sure all the same.

“I don’t need them.”

He held in his scoff as he easily translated that response: I don’t want to give up any semblance of control of myself.

He got up and headed over to the wall behind his desk and accessed a hidden compartment, revealing a small fridge/freezer. He grabbed the bottle of vodka, two glasses, and then closed the door before heading back over to Natasha.

“I look that bad, huh?” she remarked as she eyed the bottle of vodka.

“You want the drink or not?” he asked, tilting his head in a challenge.

“Yeah, alright.”

He opened the bottle and poured them each some vodka before he slid a glass over to her. He tended to prefer a good scotch or whiskey, but this wasn’t about him. She looked like she could use a drink. Or twelve. And vodka tended to be her drink of choice. Perhaps the only thing about her that was predictable.

“What are we drinking to?” she asked.

“Who says we have to drink to anything? This op was FUBAR. That’s reason enough.”

She nodded once succinctly and then took a drink. He followed suit, taking a sip from his own glass.

“You want to tell me what went wrong?”

She blew out a heavy sigh. “What didn’t?”

“Well, you got back here in one piece,” he offered, arching an eyebrow before taking another sip.

She pursed her lips and glared at him half-heartedly. “Bad intel,” she summarized. “Everything we thought we knew was seriously outdated.”

Nick took a long drink from his glass. “How outdated?” he asked. It wasn’t unusual for intelligence to be a little stale on some ops, but given the fallout on this one, clearly it was a problem.

“Months.”

That got his attention. He’d had people working on this for almost 10 months. How could they have screwed it up so badly? “Did we not vet it?”

She took a sip of her drink before answering. “Of course we did,” she answered with an irritated glare at the suggestion of her incompetence, “but it was sketchy to begin with. By the time I had pieced together some more meaningful data from the ground, they were already moving forward with the next phase. I had to act fast or we were gonna lose them.”

“Did you call it in?”

She nodded. “The signal was spotty at best, but when I did connect, I didn’t get an answer.”

His gaze narrowed. Those lines were monitored 24 hours a day, seven days a week. And he’d personally emphasized to the agents on duty before the op that it was important they keep an eye on her line. “And then?”

“I tried to call Coulson, but by then the signal had dropped entirely. And then I was rudely interrupted,” she said drily.

He smirked at her tone and leaned back in his chair. “And things went downhill from there?” She nodded and he sighed. “How bad?”

He saw her jaw clench before she answered. “They had them in cages, Nick.”

He took a long drink, finishing off the last of the vodka in his glass. Weapons, they had expected. Adults and kids in cages, they had not. “You get them out?”

“Some,” she answered with a haunted look in her eyes, “they caught wind of me escaping from my cell and executed some of them before I could get to them.”

He leaned over and refilled his own glass and then hers as well when she held it out. “That’s not on you, Natasha.”

“I should have been faster.”

“You did the best you could with what you had,” he interrupted.

“My best should have been better,” she countered with a hard expression that he knew well. She had always held herself to a high standard, and was always her own harshest critic.

“ **We** should have been better. We sent you in with shit intel and no backup. That you managed to do anything at all is remarkable. I won’t call it a win, because we both know it wasn’t, but it was still damn good considering everything.”

She was quiet for a long moment before she spoke again. “Sometimes I wonder if what we do is worth anything at all.”

He considered her words. It wasn’t like her to be so dramatic. The mission must have rattled her...at least as much as she _could_ be rattled. “Not like you to be so existential,” he commented with an arched eyebrow.

“Yeah, well my last few missions have been pretty shitty,” she bit back, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought he heard some bitterness in her tone.

“I didn’t bring out the good stuff for a pity party,” he said as he gestured to the bottle on the table between them.

“I’m not asking for your pity,” she replied brusquely, narrowing her gaze at him.

“Good, ‘cause I’m not giving you any,” he replied swiftly, fixing her with a look of his own. When she didn’t respond he continued. “So... what, you want me to give you babysitting duty instead?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know I’d just break the rookies,” she joked. Yeah, he remembered the last time he’d assigned her to train the incoming class. That hadn’t ended well. Still, the spark of amusement in her eyes was a welcomed sight given how drained and haunted she had looked when she’d entered his office.

He eyed her carefully. “Maybe you should take some time off. Been a bit since you visited the farm. Last I heard Barton had added a new member of the family. Suppose he wants you to meet them at some point.”

She rubbed a finger back and forth across the side of the glass idly. “I’m okay, Nick.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t. I said it’s been a long time since you actually took some vacation.”

“You need someone running the missions, and I’m not about to get you to recall Clint.”

“We have other agents, Romanoff,” he replied drily.

“Ones you trust with the kind of stuff Clint and I handle?” she challenged.

She had a point. They really were in a class all their own. Still, they weren’t the only talented agents SHIELD employed. “We can manage for a couple of weeks without you.” She arched an eyebrow doubtfully. “SHIELD doesn’t run just because you’re here,” he countered, holding her gaze in a challenge of his own.

She rolled her eyes again. “Don’t be dramatic. You know that isn’t what I meant. There’s been a bunch of high clearance level ops lately, and unless you’ve given out some promotions I didn’t hear about, you don’t have that many agents with the necessary clearance levels.”

Irritatingly...again, she had a point. Barton being off had shifted most of the responsibility onto her shoulders. But he wasn’t about to deprive the man of time with his new kid and the rest of his family. Still, Natasha deserved some time off too, and he could find a way to make it work. Or rather, he’d have Hill find a way to make it work. “Regardless, you’re on mandatory medical leave for at least a week, probably two. May as well get off base.”

“Nick-”

“No arguments, Natasha, or I’m instructing Hill and Coulson to change your clearance level and take your phone.”

She glared at him for a moment before she surprised him and leaned back in the chair, closed her eyes, and brought the glass to her lips to take a drink. “Cages, Nick. They were in cages.”

“I know. I’ve got people on it. We’re gonna take down these sons of bitches.”

Her eyes opened and she held up her glass. “Here’s to that.”

“ _To success_ ,” he replied in Russian.

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise and she smiled genuinely before she echoed his words, albeit with much better pronunciation. “ _To success_.”

He refilled their glasses again as he turned over the information in his mind. It was possible they’d screwed up the intelligence gathering, but he’d had good people on it and Coulson had been overseeing it. Hell, Natasha had gone over the specs and data too, and if anyone was going to see the issue it would’ve been her. No, he’d place money that it wasn’t bad intelligence because of SHIELD. He glanced at his agent and found her staring out the window at the night sky with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Share with the class,” he instructed, knowing her well enough to read her expression.

She turned to meet his gaze. “I don’t think that op going bad was necessarily a mistake.” He held her gaze in a silent request for her to elaborate lieu of replying verbally. “Think about it - that last tip that came in was too good. After nothing but scraps of intelligence for months, what are the chances we hit a pay day that good?”

He tilted his head as he considered her line of thinking. True, both he and Coulson had been surprised by their good fortune in having that tip fall into their laps. They had both chalked it up to good work by the team though - and admittedly a lot of the time when that kind of luck happens, it _was_ a result of good, hard work - but maybe she was right. Maybe they’d been blinded by attributing the win to the team, rather than some entity with an entirely different agenda. “You think someone was drawing us out?”

“Or testing us,” she counters. “The Red Room used to do it occasionally. They’d run a sloppy operation either with new faces or through a patsy, leaving enough breadcrumbs for their target to pick up and then come after them. Then they’d observe the way the target would try and infiltrate, and either take them out with some covert forces unrelated to the operation, or shore up their defences as a result.”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Her theory might have some merit.

“Or it could just be incompetent criminals,” she added with a half-hearted grin before finishing off her glass.

He held up the bottle in a silent offer for a refill and she nodded while pushing her glass forward. He poured some into her glass and then held up his own in another toast. “Here’s hoping,” he said with a shake of his head, even as he began to mentally piece together the particulars of what he was going to have Hill dig into on this very issue.

She smiled. “To stupidity.”

He groaned. “You hang out with Barton too much.”

She shrugged. “You’re the one who just suggested I go visit him.”

He glared at her as she downed the contents of her freshly refilled glass. “File your reports tomorrow, not tonight,” he instructed, pointing to the door in a not-so-veiled invitation for her to leave.

She chuckled as she rose to her feet with some effort. “Always the gentleman, Nick,” she teased.

“My goodwill is vanishing very quickly,” he warned, though he knew she correctly recognized it as half-hearted. “I mean it about the time off,” he added firmly after a moment. “Give Mrs. Barton my best.”

She nodded and then began making her way to the door. Once she reached it and was about to open it, he called out, “And Natasha?” She looked back at him. “Good work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nick was more fun to write than I thought, particularly because he was being kind and letting Natasha have a little fun at his expense.  
> Did you enjoy the banter? Think it accurately portrayed their relationship? Let me know - I always love seeing what y'all think.
> 
> more to come...and hopefully I'll be able to keep up the relatively frequent updates!


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